Smile and Wave, Boys
by Ms. AtomicBomb
Summary: Diarmuid is tired of being scouted by famous magazines, but after his brother is in a predicament; he decides to give into it. There's another problem, he's never modeled before. He gets it all; women, money and material goods. But he only wants one person's attention; his manager's. Human AU. Rated T for C.K.
1. Chapter 1

**~Author's Note~**

 **This was one long overdue fic that I had planned. I also had written it long ago but never posted it because hmmm. You can see my writing here isn't how it is now. But I'm too lazy to go over it a third time and fix it up. Anyway, enjoy this new fic~!**

 **Sincerely, omg I have too many fics,**

 **~Ms. AtomicBomb**

* * *

He walked into the moderately sized room, the short blonde female right behind him. He had never thought he would actually be doing this—after all this time he had finally given in to society. A fashion magazine was not the best place he could be found in, but if it gave him the money he needed to give his brother, then he would do it.

 _Two weeks earlier..._

"Sir, you are very handsome," a young woman smiled at him, "how would you like to become a model with my company, Mana Inc.?" Her smile was vibrant and it made her decorated lips ache a little.

Diarmuid gave an apologetic smile and shook his head, "I am very sorry, but I am not interested."

"Well, sir," she sighed, "If you are to change your mind, here's my card."

He was tired of women and men coming up to him and asking him to become a model for their companies, but it seemed like today they were coming at him out of the nowhere, he had already received two other offers from Ki and Rei, and even Thosaka Co., but he still was not interested in all these modelling companies or in modelling over all.

Diarmuid continued to make his way to his workplace which at the moment was the auto repair shop because it was frankly all he could get. The good thing was that the pay sufficed for his rent and for his food. As long as he had enough to eat, then it would all be alright; he needn't worry about anything else.

"Diarmuid," he heard his boss calling and he jogged towards the front of the garage.

"Yes?" He looked at the buff man, waiting patiently next to a short female.

"You are good with motorcycles, help her out," he commanded before leaving Diarmuid with the woman that was talking on the phone. She was dressed in a black suit with black gloves and it made him wonder if she was burning up. He was wearing a white shirt and blue work pants and he was hot as hell, how would she not be at least waving air to cool herself?

The female seemed rather irritated for she was tapping her foot impatiently and arguing over the phone with whoever was on the other line, "And you let him quit just like that? The shoot is tomorrow! Tomorrow! Do you know how hard it is going to be to find someone to fill in for him? Someone that the photographer will agree with?"

Diarmuid looked at the motorcycle and then turned towards the woman, waiting patiently as she was busy with the call. He stood straight and moved his head along to the music on the radio; a classical rock radio station because he was fed up with the same six songs being replayed over and over on the mainstream radio stations. She handed him the keys, still letting her attention be directed to the person on the other line.

"One second," she grumbled into the phone and then held the phone to her chest, "It is making a weird noise and it is also leaking." She looked at the man, her green eyes grazing him over before she went back to bickering on the phone.

Diarmuid turned the bike on and tried to listen to the motor, indeed it was making an odd noise and it was leaking some oil. Although the bike looked rather new it seemed that she used it for high speeds and that meant that the noise was only normal. He looked over at her a little expectantly and she was still on the small smart phone of hers.

"Yes?" She put the phone to her chest again, "Can you fix it?"

Diarmuid gave a smile and nodded, "'Course I can," he grinned, "You might need to leave it here for a while, though."

"Can it be done by tomorrow?" She looked at him, still tapping her foot.

"Um, well," he scratched his arm, "we have other cars to get to and well..."

"Please? I'll pay you more," she reached for her wallet in her blazer's pocket.

Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "I am sorry, but we do not work like that. We get the cars as they come. Earliest will be a week."

She shook her head quickly, letting her pony tail shake along with it in an almost comedic manner, "No, no, no. I sort of need it by tomorrow,"

Since she was being a little pushy and all, he nodded lightly and sighed, "I'll see what I can do."

A soft smile formed on her lips and she seemed very thankful, "Thank you very much." Then—after that—she went back to her phone call, except this time, she sounded much calmer than before.

He watched as she walked towards the office of the building and made arrangements with the manager about when she was going to pick the motorcycle up. They had been talking for a while, that it made Diarmuid wonder what they were actually discussing. She left the office and then began to walk his way. She had already finished talking on the phone and she was actually fanning herself with her hand—so she was burning up in that suit.

"Hello again," she nodded his way and he gave her a small and acknowledging smile.

"Hello." He had not noticed then, but there was car oil on his face and even his hair, and that is why she was smiling at him at the moment; because he seemed quite funny.

"How would you like to…" she bit her lower lip, "do a favour for me?"

Diarmuid stood up straight and wiped some sweat from his forehead, "If it involves your motorcycle, I would love to help you out."

The woman nodded slowly and began, "I just spoke to your manager and he agreed to have you finish the job by tomorrow, but I do not have time to pick it up…"

Diarmuid was never really good at reading peoples thoughts, so he simply stood silently in front of her waiting for her to finish with her sentence and then he would see if he could be able to do what she asked.

"I was wondering if you could drop it off at my workplace. Your manager agreed but I wanted to ask you for consent."

Diarmuid shot his head towards his manager's office and watched as he had a triumphant smirk on his face upon seeing him through the small window. He let out a choked defeated sigh, "It would be my pleasure." She could tell that his voice was forced out and it was not honestly his pleasure.

The short female smiled up at him and passed him a small business card, "That is the address, it would be convenient if you drop it off at around three in the afternoon. Call when you arrive so that I know when to come down and help you park it."

Diarmuid slowly nodded and watched as she thanked him and left the auto repair shop. He looked down at the motorcycle and sighed as he shook his head, "Great." He mumbled and then glanced at the business card that she had handed him. He read it over and saw her name in big bold letters, "Arturia Pendragon…" He mumbled her name and sighed again before shoving the card into his back pocket.

The following day, the tall Irishman looked up at a tall glass building and tilted his head to the right, "Are you serious?" He looked down at the piece of paper and saw the company's logo printed on it.

 _Pendragon Agency_

"This has to be a joke," he grumbled, because he was well aware that the company specialized in modelling and other talents, but was soon interrupted by his cellphone ringing. The young man pulled out the flip phone he owned—because he frankly could not afford one of those smartphones that everyone owned nowadays—and answered the call, "Hello?"

"Heeey, bro!" He heard the voice of his older brother through the cellphone. It was never a good thing when Cú Chulainn elongated his hellos and with that tone as if he was trying to get something from the younger male.

Diarmuid sighed and turned around back to the motorcycle, "Yeah? What's up?"

"I was calling to see how my little brother was doing, how are you?"

"I'm doing well, now tell me why you really called me."

"Quick to the point as always. Well," his brother laughed nervously, "I'm kind of in a bind and I owe some money to some people…so… I was hoping that you would have some money to help me out."

Diarmuid groaned, "How much do you owe?"

"So you'll help me out? Oh thank you! I must have the best brother on the planet!" Cú Chulainn sounded so hopeful and grateful.

"I never said that," he leaned against the motorcycle, crossing an arm over his chest and tucking it under the other.

The dark haired man could practically hear the frown on the other's lips, "Aw, come on, bro, help me out, pleeease?"

Diarmuid sighed, "I was asking how much you owed in order to see how much I could possibly lend to you."

"Um, it's not _that_ much."

"Okay, but can you tell me how much?"

"Ten thousand." Then there was absolute silence between the males until Diarmuid noticed that he had been holding his breath.

He coughed and cleared his throat, "Not _that_ much?! Cú Chulainn, do you understand how much _ten thousand_ is? Do you want me to sell my soul? What did you even do to ask for ten thousand dollars?"

Cú Chulainn chuckled from the other line, "Long story but it's not like a mafia or a gang. Or drugs, so we're good. I got to get the money to them in a month…"

"A month? Do you know how much I earn in a month? One thousand five hundred. How am I supposed to get ten thousand?"

"Dia, you're smart and you've got a pretty face. I have faith you can figure something out, lil bro, please?"

Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair and then nodded slowly, "Sure, whatever, I'll see what I can do. But this is the last time I help you pay your debts, and right afterwards; you will come back and live where I can monitor you."

Cú Chulainn laughed, "Of course, anything for you, thank you Diarmuid. You're the best brother ever."

"Pack to be able to return, got it?"

"Of course!" Cú Chulainn cheered before bidding a farewell and then hanging up the phone.

Diarmuid shook his head and sighed, "What am I going to do with you, Cú?" he mumbled under his breath and then lifted his head to see a man standing in front of him.

"Good afternoon sir, do you want me to park your vehicle for you?" It was a bell boy, or those people that work to park rich people's cars for a 'living', but it was probably the poor boy's part-time job.

Diarmuid smiled, "Ah, no, this is actually an auto I'm dropping off."

"For who?" The man blinked, "I can leave it in their parking space."

"Arturia Pendragon." Diarmuid replied and noticed that it would save him time if he just let the short boy take care of the parking.

"Oh! You must be the one she was waiting for! Perfect! Let me park the vehicle and I will lead you up to her office right away."

"Oh wait! No, I don't—" He was cut off by the boy taking the motorcycle keys from his hands.

"Just stay here." Then the brown-haired male was gone with the motorcycle but returned rather quickly—which surprised Diarmuid because it had taken the boy less than ten minutes to park the vehicle and then return, "Right this way." He said as he led Diarmuid into the tall building.

The entryway of the building was huge and white. The tiles were white, the walls were white and the windows were, well, windows. The colour and the windows created an ambiance of spaciousness. It was a beautiful building and it made Diarmuid feel out of place as he saw all the males in business suits and classy clothing while he stood in a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt and a red and black plaid button-up—which was not buttoned up. Don't even get me started on his white vans.

They entered an elevator filled with well-dressed people and the bell boy pressed one of the top numbers, surprising Diarmuid again because the kid was short and the button was pretty high. Of course the bell boy was not an actual child—he was probably eighteen maximum but his height was short despite his mature and handsome face.

People left the tightly packed elevator as the elevator ascended and stopped at many floors. Even the elevator was fancy.

The bellboy led Diarmuid out of the elevator and into another fancy floor, then past the reception and knocked on an office that had a golden plate reading 'Pendragon'. The boy opened the door after a cue and pushed Diarmuid inside before closing the door again.

The office was big and the view of the skyline was amazing from the big window, he had barely noticed the short blond female that sat at the desk, "Hello," that was what snapped his attention from the window to her.

"Oh, hello." He gave a nod of acknowledgement and then gave her a simple smile.

"Want to take a seat?" She signalled to the chair in front of her and noted as he shook his head, "Well, I actually wanted to ask another favour of you. Your manager agreed and of course, once more, I am asking for your consent."

It seemed like people really needed his help nowadays, "I would have to hear what the favour is before I commit to anything."

The female sat back on the chair and crossed a leg over the other, "I suppose that is very fair… I am asking if you could cover one of my models for a shoot." Her eyebrows lifted in question as she watched the man shift his weight to the other leg.

"I'm sorry but—"

"They pay is two thousand per shoot, and with a face like yours I'm sure it can be easily five thousand." She was quick to interrupt him before he declined, "The Einzbern Magazine is very famous and if you were on it, both sales and appreciation would skyrocket. I do not want to force you into anything, but I like to think myself persuasive. Another much respected Magazine is The Grail, and I could also get you on the cover of that one."

Diarmuid thought about the money and the fact that this was his big chance to help his brother out, "How many photoshoots would I get this month and by when would I get the money?" He wasn't always just about the money but his brother needed his help.

"I can get you three photoshoots in the next two weeks and a fashion show. It is time for summer fashion and we could probably get you modeling some bathing suits. I don't usually scout, in fact, the application process for Pendragon Agency is a pain in the ass, so you would be what I like to call a 'special' case."

"How much does the fashion show pay?" He was quick to get to the point.

"Well, considering that it is for a week, you could get about three thousand," She swung her head from left to right as she played about with a silver pen, "Of course these are not concrete numbers, could be more could be less depending on consumer demand. If you are well liked, which I'm sure you have no problem with that, then the pay is higher. People will buy your magazine within seconds of release. Your name on billboards, crowds of people packed just to catch a glimpse of you."

Diarmuid shook his head, "I am not interested in fame. I just need to make ten thousand dollars by the following month."

"I could make you a loan and you can pay it off as you work." She had a small smirk on her lips as she was hopeful that she got him. If she could get this man to be on the cover of the next issue of Einzbern Magazine, it would mean pure success.

Then it hit Diarmuid, numbers were not the only thing he should be talking about, hell he had never been a model before! What did one even do? "Thing is," he began, "I have never modeled before."

"I know," she grinned, "If you had, I would be upset at the company who'd have let you go."

"So, I don't exactly know what to do."

"Look pretty. That's what a model does. I actually want some shoots of you in the auto repair shop; that would be perfect for the main pages of the magazine." She grinned, "So what do you say? Do you want to be a part-time model?"

"I guess that I accept."


	2. Chapter 2

He took a deep breath, unsure if he should really be calling at this moment in time. His palms were sweaty and his heart was clearly hammering in his chest. The stress of the photoshoot was getting to him already, "Hey," the defining ring of the cellphone was cut short when his brother answered, "What's up, lil bro?"

Diarmuid blinked, looking at himself in the mirror. He was already dressed up, the soft white shirt wrinkling with every movement he made, "I… I got the money for you."

"Woah! Already?!" It had been less than a week since the blue-haired man asked and his little brother had delivered—as was custom of him, "Ten thousand is the price you placed on your soul? I would have bargained for a million."

"What? No!" Diarmuid grunted as he shook his head, turning to check that the door was still closed.

"Oh!" The younger man could here his brother smirk, "So, you found yourself a sugar mama?"

A groan elicited from Diarmuid's lips, "Cú…This isn't a joke."

Cú sighed, "Bro, I told you it wasn't that bad, I hope you're not involved in the mafia."

"No." He deadpanned, "I got a job; like any normal person would."

There was a gasp, "Hopefully not in a brothel."

"Cú, quite being stupid. Now," he huffed, "will you tell me how you got indebted."

Cú's side of the line went dead silent for a long while until he took a breath, "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course. It should be evident since I am to be working for this."

"Fine… It all started when…"

"Please get to the point."

"Okay, okay; I bet a gerbil couldn't eat an entire cake. There, happy?"

A blink. Two. Finally, a third, "What?"

"Right, who knew those tiny animals could eat so much? Even I can't eat an entire cake—I mean I _could_ but I wouldn't."

"You bet ten thousand that a gerbil could not eat a cake. You have done some senseless and outright ridiculous things but this, this tops the icing on the cake."

Cú groaned, "Don't rub it in, I know it was a mistake but it's done and past now."

Diarmuid heard the door knob click and his head shot towards the door once again, the short woman stepping in, "Are you prepared?" She asked, her green eyes blinking at him.

"Who's that? A client?" Cú asked and Diarmuid could feel impatience bubbling up inside of him.

He cleared his throat before formulating an answer, "I will contact you later in the evening." After hanging up, he turned towards his new manager and gave her a nervous smile, "Is it time, Ms. Pendragon?"

"Saber," she corrected and then proceeded to nod, "Yes, they seem to be waiting for us now."

" _Arturia Pendragon," she extended her hand towards him, "But you may call me Saber as many of my models do."_

 _He took her hand, "Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Might I ask why they call you Saber?"_

 _The woman blinked, "It is simply a nickname that stuck." She replied as she led him towards the door of her office. She pushed a small button and the doors opened for her while she continued out of the room._

 _Her stride was strong but graceful, like that of a King's. She barely bounced on her feet and her head was held high, "Jeanne, may you please cancel all of Emiya's appointments—even today's; he quit."_

" _Emiya quit?" Diarmuid caught sight of a girl sitting at a big desk near Arturia's door. She seemed short as well despite her long braided hair and big violet eyes._

 _Her eyes finally landed on Diarmuid and the end of her lips curled slightly, "Good day,"_

" _Jeanne, I would like for you to be acquainted with Diarmuid, our newest model. He will be working part time as he must be attending his first job. Diarmuid," the green-eyed female turned to him ever so slightly, "meet Jeanne; my personal secretary."_

" _Nice to meet you Diarmuid," Jeanne seemed bright, loving and very sweet. She didn't even bat an eye just as Arturia had before; he usually received unwanted attention from women, "I look forward to working with you."_

 _Diarmuid nodded his head and returned the warm smile before Arturia continued on her way after a short good-bye. He followed pursuit._

" _Jeanne is the sweetest and most understanding girl you will ever meet. Emiya… you need not worry; he quit. I have no doubt you will quickly become one of the most—if not the most—loved model; your only threat would be Gilgamesh. Which whom you so happen to share your first shoot with."_

"Gilgamesh?" Diarmuid blinked at his short manager, who had mentioned the man once again. After getting home the day he was hired, he had one some research on who this Gilgamesh was. It was only when he had seen the various pictures of the man that he recognized him from the many magazines that would be up for sale at grocery stores.

Arturia gave a nod, her lips a straight line, "Yes. As I had mentioned earlier, you will be sharing your first shoot with him. I arranged a simple shoot for you, I hope Medea will be pleased with you."

They made it to a door and the female managed to push it open, revealing a busy sight before the man. There were people walking about with clothing in their hands. Some other with make-up brushes while lights shun at a white wall. A golden haired man seemed to be taking all the attention as he stood talking to the photographer.

Arturia strode through the crowd expertly, people parting at her sight in order to let her slip through with all her glory. Diarmuid had snapped out of watching her move gracefully and followed after her instead. A woman with long pastel purple hair stood next to the photographer, wealth written all over her blemish-less face.

A long violet velvet dress clinging softly to her pale ivory skin, black heels keeping her tall enough so that he wouldn't be looking completely down to her, "Ah, Arturia." Her voice assured him her power and astuteness.

"Medea, I would like to introduce you to today's model; Diarmuid Ua Duibhne." Arturia looked proud and quite glad that she had such a man under her company, Medea could tell.

Medea's eyes that matched the shade of that pale hair of hers landed on Diarmuid in a black suit, a smile snaking unto her lips, "You've outdone yourself this time, Arturia dear." Her eyes had sparkled at him, she was star struck and so very excited.

Arturia gave a small smile, pleased with her work, "Only the best of men could model your works."

"Oh, you flatter me." Medea giggled, "And here I thought no one could compare with Gilgamesh or Archer. You have brought me a jewel. How long have you been hiding him under your sleeve?" She smirked, lightly pushing Arturia's shoulder.

"I have only recently hired him."

A throat was cleared and the two females immediately looked towards the sound, Diarmuid following their gaze.

"This mongrel? Better than a king?" Red eyes glared at Diarmuid, making him feel less than flea. The blond man was something special.

Medea's smile dropped, "King? It's been a year since you've gotten that title, I feel you should have gotten over it by now, Gilgamesh."

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes, forgetting about Diarmuid, "Well," he blinked, "it's been a long time, Arturia."

"Not long enough." Arturia was quick witted, and that made Diarmuid smirk.

Do not be fooled, though, Gilgamesh would never give up that easily, "How about I take you for a coffee after the shoot?"

The short manager huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, "Are we here to needlessly seduce or to have a photoshoot?"

"Right!" Medea interrupted, "I do need my summer collection to start being promoted. Where is Youth?"

"Right here." A Lady walked in, red glittering dress trailing behind her. Burgundy hair coiled in bouncy, playful curls, "This dress is superb, Medea, your skills are simply magnificent." Her voice was between sexy and divine.

It wasn't always that Diarmuid thought that—in fact, he never had before. This woman was mesmerizing, even as she walked towards him, giving him a wide red-lipped smile.

"You are definitely new. Are you here to replace Emiya?" She asked, long and curly eyelashes flickering as she blinked up at him, "Are you with the Pendragons?"

"Uh…uhm." He was speechless, his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his mind only focusing on her enchanting green eyes.

The woman giggled, nodding her head, "The dress is very overwhelming, I had the same expression as you when I first saw it." She looked down at the sleeveless dress, lifting her burgundy head back up, extending her slender sun kissed hand, "Youth is my stage name, but it's really Sileas Cooney."

"Sileas…" He echoed as he took her hand, shaking it slowly.

Her smile widened, "It means young, or youth. And you are?"

"Diarmuid."

 _Without enemy,_ she giggled a bit, "Interesting, does mister Diarmuid have a last name?"

His cheeks burned as he looked away at the set for a bit, "Uhm, y-yes. Ua Duibhne."

"It is Diarmuid's first time shooting and I do hope we'll go easy on him," Arturia interrupted them, snapping Diarmuid back to reality and out of the mesmerizing green glow that were Sileas' eyes.

Medea nodded, looking over at the photographer that was her husband, "Kuzuki, dear, please be sure to be nice to our new model."

The expressionless male gave a nod, signalling the models to hurry to the set.

Diarmuid followed after Sileas, unsure of what to do. Arturia had told him to 'look pretty' but what did that really mean? He could not just stand still and smile. Plus, what if his smile was ugly? What if he wasn't cut out to be a model? Wasn't it too late to back out now? Arturia had lent him the money already.

"Relax," the woman next to him hushed, tilting her head towards him but still looking at the camera.

Gilgamesh looked at his watch and soon after the blinding light of the camera and its equipment flashed throughout the sent, catching Diarmuid off guard for a second as he finally regained his sight.

A few more shots went by and Diarmuid still had not gotten used to the flash, seeing white for a few seconds afterwards.

"He's a bit stiff," Medea complained to Arturia.

The blonde nodded, "He is quite fresh. Let me see if I can fix it." She strode up to the man without hesitation, cutting the shoot short for a second.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, blushing a little as he believed he was causing his manager trouble already.

"You need not apologize," she replied and took his hand, "relax, take a deep breath. You won't be used to the flash for a while, but shake it off. Look at me," she ordered as she folded his sleeves to his mid-arms, exposing strong and toned arms. She fixed his collar as he did what she asked, her eyes were trained on his, "look at me the way you did when I told you to have my motorcycle fixed by the following day."

"What?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just follow my instructions."

He gulped and then looked at her as he had that day, as if he knew she was crazy but he tried to hide it.

"Perfect," she praised, "ease your eyebrows, and clench your jaw a tiny bit." He did as asked of him, "Never mind, relax the jaw. Lid your eyes a bit. Now lift your chin. Great."

"Am I doing good?" He mumbled, trying his best not to damage her hard work with his expression.

She gave a nod, "Here, take the blazer, swing it over your shoulder."

"Okay." He took the black blazer in his hand and threw it over his shoulder, whacking the female behind him with the cloth, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." He apologized after she squeaked.

"Don't ruin your facial expression!" Arturia was trying her best not to laugh. She took a deep breath, calming herself, "Look at the camera." With that, a few more pictures were taken. She tried to help him ease all throughout.

Sileas had not mentioned the blazer incident throughout the shoot.

Medea had requested one last shoot, one that Diarmuid was quite uncomfortable with, "Youth, smile as bright as you can and Diarmuid and Gilgamesh will be going to 'kiss' your cheeks. I'm sure this one will be great."

Sileas grinned, already practicing her bright smile. Gilgamesh stretched a bit as he knew this was the last set of pictures that they were going to take. Diarmuid, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and a blushing mess all over.

They tried to take a picture but Diarmuid had looked as if he was about to kiss a toad.

"Wait!" Arturia called, holding her arm up, "Diarmuid," she sighed as she now trudged toward him, tired of having to correct his poses all the time.

"I'm sorry." He lowered his head, "I just…"

"Do not fret." She took a deep breath, "Look at me again," he lifted his head, "Pucker your lips."

Instead of puckering, he hid them and shook his head, "It's embarrassing."

"Pucker your lips." She repeated, not giving him leeway.

He pouted them.

"As if you were about to kiss… a puppy."

He puckered.

"Not like that! You look like a duck. Would you kiss a puppy that way?" She asked, raising a brow.

"Yes… They're cute," he whined a bit.

Arturia thought for a bit, tapping her finger on her chin, "Pucker as if you were… _gently_ going to kiss your bride on your wedding day."

He stood still for a while, looking at one of the lights in the ceiling. He looked at her and puckered, gently, just as if he had said 'I do' and the love of his life stood in a white dress in front of him, his eyes flickering closed and his cheeks rosy red.

"Perfect." He heard the short woman compliment and he immediately covered his face with his hands, "Perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

His first shoot ended off on a good note, Medea had complimented his looks a million times afterwards; saying he looked like a god. Arturia had excused herself and told him that she would need to hurry off to a meeting she had to attend and if he was fine getting back home. Thus, he stood in the lobby of Medea's building, completely in awe of the architectural beauty it was. The wide windows were already beautiful but the reflective tiles made it seem even more fancy.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He was snapped out of his trance, his head flipping to the source of the sound.

Beside him stood the beautiful woman. Green eyes like jewels sparkling up to him as a white blazer was draped over her shoulders, a red velvet dress clothing her while her tanned long legs were well defined in a pair of black heels. The sight of Sileas was enough to leave him speechless. He was amazed at her beauty; those plump red lips, smooth-looking skin… she was gorgeous.

"Uh, no. I was simply taking in the building." He was already dressed as he usually was; normal faded jeans and a simple t-shirt—nothing close to her league. He had already seen Gilgamesh strut out with an expensive suit with his hair gelled back and alligator skin shoes; Gilgamesh was in her league, not him.

She smiled, dimples forming on her cheeks, "It is mesmerizing, is it not?" She giggled—a heavenly giggle that caused his heart to jump, "Are you off to any place in particular?"

He shook his head in god speed, "No, I have the day off."

"I overheard you only work part-time as a model," she pulled her purse up as she looked through it, "If you do not mind me asking, is that true?" She glanced up at him through dark lashes. Did she know she was being seductive?

Diarmuid managed a nod, "Yes, I also work as a mechanic." He gulped and she finally pulled out what she was looking for—a pair of sunglasses.

"Mechanic?" Yes, he was certainly out of her league…a low-pay job like that would never impress her, "That sounds fantastic!"

His eyes widened, surprise and confusion lighting up his facial features, "Really?"

Another heavenly giggle slip, it made his stomach churn, "Yes, actually. It's very interesting. My father loved working with cars, it was a hobby of his, and he taught me a few things—nothing major though." She placed on the sunglasses, "You look adorable when confused, I guess I might have to confuse you more… I'm glad Ms. Pendragon got me working with you."

He managed a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck without any coherent sentences forming in his mind. He had no idea how to start up a conversation again.

"Oh," she placed a hand on the strap of her purse once she had pushed it onto her shoulder, "if you aren't doing anything, I was wondering if you would like to join me for a coffee." Her red lips stretched in an inviting smile.

His heart fluttered, "Uhm, y-yes." _Real smooth, idiot_ , he scolded himself for the stuttering.

"Perfect," Sileas grinned, looking down in a way that was very charming. She led him out of the building, and it was no surprise that there was a crowd of people already—probably there specifically for her.

She took a hold of his hand—his cheeks burning at this action—just as the flashbulbs of the cameras went off. They managed to get through towards a car on the driveway, albeit with a lot of force on her part. Upon reaching the black van, she climbed in and then pulled him in, out of the clutches of the media. After the door was closed for them, she let out a loud huff of frustration.

"Sometimes, I have a hard time dealing with the media…" she grumbled, "Anyway, there's a coffee shop I simply adore, and if I play the right cards, I won't get recognized." She smiled at him before directing the driver to where she wished to go.

Diarmuid kept silent, nothing much came to mind during the ride at all. He had never, truly, been interested in celebrities and spot lights, therefore he had never paid attention to Sileas and her stardom. Plus, even if he did see her face in a billboard once, it might have been something he never intended on buying. He never looked through the magazines at superstores or spent his time following stars on an entertainment channel; most of his time was always spent at the auto repair or immersed in his hobby of lacrosse.

She had pulled her fluffy burgundy ringlets back into a ponytail so that they were no longer cupping her face, but caused her to look a bit different. The sunglasses still blocked her eyes from recognition, and that was as far as she would go to alter her appearance in any way.

She entered the high-end coffee establishment with prowess and pride, her heels clicking on the tile with determination and astuteness. There was this look that she gave off as if she owned all that was around her. She found a seat for them, not waiting until Diarmuid could pull the chair for her.

There was a wide window next to them, the passing people not being an issue to the sight of the park on the opposite side of the street, "You know," she crossed her legs, her tight red velvet dress riding up just a single inch, "The cappuccinos that they have here are simply heaven, I highly recommend them."

A waitress came by and he ordered the same as her; a medium cappuccino. Turning to her, he became nervous. He could feel his hands shaking a bit as he fidgeted with the cup of sugar cubes while waiting for the coffee to arrive.

Sileas licked her lips, "You don't need to be so nervous, I'm just like any other girl. I'm sure you aren't this nervous with Pendragon."

He managed a soft chuckle, "It's just that—"

"I'm pretty? You don't need to be intimidated," she giggled, "I'm no different than Medea or Pendragon. Plus, if any of us should be nervous, it should be me… I'm very thrilled to be next to you, mister pretty face. Will you be doing anything next weekend?"

* * *

"How did the pictures turn out, Miss Pendragon?" Diarmuid asked as he was ushered into her office.

The woman stood by the window, over looking the city below the towering building that was the Pendragon Agency. The woman inclined her ear towards the man, her golden hair that was in a ponytail twirled for a few seconds before settling again. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her dark blue suit was missing the blazer, hung around the desk chair limply.

"Tell me, Diarmuid, would you ever consider yourself famous?" She asked, a hand fidgeting with the necklace she wore as she still did not land an eye on him.

The male knitted his brows, taking a single step towards her, "Miss, I simply work part-time at an auto repair shop."

"Let me rephrase the question," she took one last look at the man, rounding her desk and sitting atop it, "How would you like to be famous?"

"Ah," Diarmuid gave a nervous smile, his lips stretched unusually while his brows were furrowed, "I do not like fame too much; a reason I would not have liked joining the industry."

She gave an empathetic nod, "I understand where you are coming from… though, as luck would have it; you have managed to quickly be loved by the audience."

"What?" He asked, uncertain if his hearing was failing him.

"Medea's sales went up by a dramatic thirty percent while Einzbern Magazine gained more than one-hundred and twenty percent revenue these past two weeks. I recently got calls from many companies wishing to advertise you wearing their merchandise next; among them, to name a few, El-Meloi Watchmakers, Watchtower, and even Fianna Suits. Honestly, I feel you are succeeding in this business and would love to offer you a full-time position. You see," she paused, fixing her sleeves, "I have never received such quick and positive feedback. People love you, want you, and most importantly, need to steal you from the Pendragon Agency. I need to make a contract with you to prevent something like the entire Emiya ordeal happening again."

"Ms. Pendragon, there are already several issues with this situation." He gulped as she raised an eyebrow at him, "I want to make it extra clear that I am satisfied working in the Auto Repair, I love it. In all honesty, this job offers me so many opportunities, but the Auto shop offers me true simplicity and happiness. I will not be leaving it behind."

"Of course, that is quite understandable. Yet, I do want to hold onto you. Maybe full-time will not be the best, but a contract seals our deal." She stood from the desk, taking a seat on the desk chair while she let her arms lightly fall on the armrests; she depicted a proud king.

Finally taking his own seat in front of him he sighed, "that brings me to my following point. I am not one to betray; honour is what I stand for."

"Then a contract will be the least of your worries," she blinked, "You see, I need to have some sort of reassurance you will not just up and leave. I need to be certain I can count on you to continue modeling for me. I am not, in any way whatsoever, questioning your loyalty. I am settling my paranoia."

Diarmuid nodded at her, accepting her terms and she immediately called for Jeanne to bring her the form.

The opaque glass doors opened as the woman entered in a black suit. A pencil skirt restricting her stride, "Miss," The violet-eyed woman smiled as she set the paperwork on the table, "Oh, before I forget, Gilgamesh called and wishes to invite you out for lunch today at The Round Table, should I relay your message?"

Arturia frowned, her features hardening at the mention of the blond. She lifted her hand, "Tell him that I must decline."

Jeanne nodded, "Would there be a reason you would like to use as an excuse?"

Knowing how Gilgamesh wanted to know her every move, she sighed, "A business proposal." She stated, "Mister Ua Duibhne, would you like to join me for lunch?" She suddenly asked, standing from her seat and reaching over for a pen, "We should discuss shoots and the fashion show that is coming up."

"I…" He mumbled, feeling torn in between.

If Arturia was not previously upset, she surely was now, "Did Miss Sileas invite you out?" Thee must have been irritation in her voice but it went unnoticed by the man.

He cleared his throat, "Y-yes."

Arturia sighed and shut her eyes, "Surely you could reschedule?" Now she was tapping the pen against her left palm, eyes steady on him with no intention of letting him off the hook.

Diarmuid hesitantly shook his head, "I promised, I very much apologize."

She blinked and passed him the pen, "A man of their word is honourable in their own way." She commented before heading out of the room, "Please sign all of the spaces that require your signature. Make sure to read carefully, I wouldn't want to deal with a lawsuit." She spoke before leaving the room, Jeanne following behind her and leaving the part-time model all by himself.

"Miss Sileas really likes to juggle them, huh?" Arturia sassed once the secretary closed the door behind them.

Jeanne shrugged, "She is one of the most loved women right now."

The Englishwoman nodded, her eyes narrowed ahead of herself, "I understand, but that does not mean she can seduce my models. I hope he doesn't fall for her sly tricks." She spoke, "Oh, and actually, call Mister Du Lac, maybe he would like to enjoy lunch with me."


	4. Chapter 4

Glancing down at the watch around his wrist, the man looked back up at the female standing at the table in front of him. He sighed, "Third time this week, is it not? Why did you call me out?" He grimaced, a look of irritation crossing his features, "I am a busy man, after all."

"And yet," she grumbled, "you still keep meeting me."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he scoffed.

The blonde cracked a grin just as the man joined in the action, "How has your week been, Du Lac?"

The man unbuttoned his black suit, fixing the purple tie around his neck as it was too tight for lunch, "Stressful, to say the least." His violet tresses were pulled back into a loose ponytail, his grey solemn eyes staring at his friend.

"I can imagine. Is the trial proceeding as you would like?" She asked, taking a seat at the table before he followed suit.

Mister Du Lac chuckled, "A prosecutor ought not to discuss confidential trials. If you so want to know, you are, by every means, allowed to swing by the courtroom."

Arturia nodded, "Sometimes I can find these cases rather peculiar and not my cup of tea." She leaned forwards unto the table, her shoulders shaking a bit for a soft laugh.

"Understandable, quite understandable," he breathed.

"Where is Morgana?" She looked about, leaning from side to side, "Is she not going to join us?"

Lancelot shook his head, "Unfortunately, no. She called me a little while ago and explained she has a 'restaurant to run' and we are only 'bothering' her."

A roll from green eyes, "Typical Morgana. I almost feel like heading to the kitchen and speaking some sense into her."

"Oh, please do not cause any drama here." He huffed, "I would prefer to eat in peace and silence…" A change of subject was needed, as Lancelot deemed, "I heard the news about Emiya, how are you fairing?" Upon the arrival of the waiter, they ordered accordingly and the young man scurried off.

She chuckled, settling back in her seat and pushing the thought of her sister aside, "Well, you make it sound as if I got the horns put on me… He joined Thosaka Company. It was a huge let down for me, but with every tunnel comes a light."

"Oh," Lancelot sipped at his red wine, "so I heard." He grinned, "The new boy, with Medea's design."

"Of which I see you sporting on this lovely day," Arturia smirked, "It does look rather fitting on you, mister prosecutor."

Lancelot looked down at himself, lifting his head with a smile on his lips, "Why, thank you." He haughtily shook his shoulders, "Now," he picked up his fork and knife when the food arrived, "How is the new boy doing?"

"The new face of the Pendragon Agency, you mean?" She chuckled, "I am completely amazed with his success."

"He's that good?" The man began to cut through his steak, lifting a dark brow.

Arturia swayed her head like a rowing ship, "Well, I would not say his skill is the best as that photoshoot was his only experience, but the people love him and the Einzberns are ecstatic."

"His first shoot? How did he get through the auditions? They're brutal…"

"He did not. I scouted him, and I do not regret that decision at all."

"Scouted?" Lancelot inched towards her, "You used to _pride_ yourself in not being so desperate as to scout for a model, what changed in that little cold heart of yours?"

Arturia scoffed, "Well, as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures." She gave a shrug, taking a bite of the meal she had ordered.

"Though, I must congratulate you on your keen eye for beauty. He is a keeper for the company, I do admit." The man took another sip of his wine after they had finished their meal, "Oh, and how are you handling Gilgamesh, I hear he comes on too strong as of late."

She rolled her green eyes, fixing her blazer sleeves, "Much too strong, unfortunately. In fact, he invited me out for lunch today and as always, I had to come up with an excuse."

"And that is the reason you invited me out for lunch, I suppose."

"Quite so."

"You do not even try to hide it," he laughed, "I feel offended and used," he feigned a hurt expression as he pulled a hand to his chest.

She waved her hand as if shooing him off, "It was my intention."

Lancelot managed a chuckle before finishing off the glass of wine, "I can tell." He sighed, "In any matter, what I did want to discuss with you, my dear friend, was the details of my engagement."

Arturia's eyes lit up, clapping her hands together and leaning forwards after the waiter had taken their empty plates and she had smiled a warm 'Thank you'. The female now had her undivided attention on her best friend, "Engagement?" She inquired, her brow raising slightly in surprise, "Really?"

Lancelot nodded his head, "That is the very reason I had accepted your request to this _platonic_ ," he eyed her, "lunch."

She laughed, leaning back unto her seat and letting her smile light her lips, "As if you need to reiterate that."

"On that note," he cleared his throat, "I regret to inform you, Miss Pendragon, that I can no longer, _whatsoever_ , go on any outing with you."

Arturia's smile dropped and she crossed her arms over her chest, "A rule Guinevere gave to you?"

He nodded.

"Ludicrous." She hissed, "You must be jesting with me."

He stood from his seat with a solemn frown on his lips, "If only I were." He collected his blazer, slipping it on and gliding his fingers over the buttons. A lock of silky purple hair slipped from it's hold and carefully covered his face, his grey eyes flickered towards her for a single second.

Arturia's expression turned sour, "I did not know you were the type to drop your best friends at the sight of a girl, or rather to be submissive to one."

"There are things you do not know about me, miss." He furrowed his brows in concern, then a thin sly smile decorated his lips, "And you honestly need to understand when I am pulling your strings and when I am not."

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself off from the seat, "You nearly caused a curse upon your marriage," she joked, fixing her own clothes.

"Shall I walk you to the office?" He asked, offering his arm for her to take.

"You mean across the street? If you so wish." Arturia took a hold of his arm, following him towards the exit.

They were talking about Guinevere and how the proposal had gone down. Arturia would admit the whole ordeal was embarrassing but quite romantic. They were just exiting the store when Lancelot heard his name being called.

"Prosecutor Du Lac!" He turned about, facing a beautiful female clad in green, "I am such a fan." She smiled, her red glossy lips stretching.

Arturia did not need to even twist her head to know who is was, " _Flirt_ ," she corrected under her breath before plastering on her indifferent look and turning on her heel to come face to face with Sileas and Diarmuid.

"Miss Pendragon?" Diarmuid lifted a brow, glancing between the short blonde and her company; not failing to flicker his eyes to their hooked arms a couple of times.

The prosecutor did not even let his gaze land on Sileas for a second longer when he recognized the man, "My, my, my, I cannot believe my eyes." Lancelot grinned, "You must be _The New Face of Pendragon Agency_ ," he teased both Arturia and Diarmuid in one go, "My name is Lancelot Du Lac and as your lady here mentioned, I am a prosecutor." He extended a hand to greet him.

Diarmuid took his hand, shaking it firmly, "It is an honour to meet you. My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne."

"The honour is all mine," the prosecutor smiled, "It is not everyday that you meet someone as famous as you."

Diarmuid was a modest man, and one could see his uneasiness with the sudden praise. He looked bashful and sort of cute, maybe; Arturia appreciated the blush on his cheeks, "I am not famous," he shook his head before rubbing the back of his neck—it was something he did when he was nervous, Arturia noticed; either rub his neck or his upper arm.

"Oh," Sileas playfully smacked his arm, "Aren't you so cute?" She giggled and kissed his cheeks.

Now—Lancelot later agreed—they were _not_ dating; so why, _why_ did she kiss his cheek? It was a bit irritating to see in Arturia's eyes, really. Sileas' red nails softly gripping his arm, her wide red-lipped smile digging (probably painfully) into her cheeks, the soft stain of red lipstick on Diarmuid's cheek; and her haughty giggle.

It was starting, just as Rin had taken Emiya away from her company, Arturia could foresee Diarmuid leaving her to join Éire Agency; she had to shake off the thought. Arturia sincerely hoped—er, no; _wished_ —that Diarmuid was not _**that**_ oblivious.

She _prayed_.

* * *

"Well," Arturia nearly groaned, her fingers flipping through the documents in her hand, "if you are not free yet again… then how about we make a formal meeting?"

Diarmuid frowned, "No, it is quite alright. I can cancel my plans with Sileas. Work should come first in this case."

Her green eyes flickered up to him, "But," she pondered, "Aren't you a man of your word?"

He nodded, "And that is why I will cancel. I made a contract with you, no one should steal me from your company; and that includes Sileas."

A soft smile played on Arturia's lips; like the long sweet note of a violin, "Are you sure your girlfriend will not mind?"

Diarmuid's cheeks lit up as if on cue, just as a stop light would, "W-we aren't dating."

A thin brow was raised in question.

He shook his head, confirming her, "No, we are not. She is just a friend."

"A friend?" Arturia tried to restrict her curiosity, "Well, I appreciate your devotion to the job. I was considering a possible shoot for you, how would you like to get some shots of you in the Auto repair? To be honest, you did catch my eye back there and it truly proved to me that it is where you look best. Would you agree with me?"

He licked his lips, a soft nervous chuckle leaving him, "It is where I feel at ease…"

"Then it's settled," she dropped the paperwork on the table and stood, "Be ready for tomorrow; I will arrange the photographers and everything."

"Uhm," he cleared his throat, "what would this shoot be for?"

She furrowed her brows, "A get to know the model one. I have not done it before, not even with Emiya, but you are so genuine that I would truly love it if we could get a couple of pages on you in the Einzbern Magazine. I am completely certain that the Lady Irisviel would jump at the idea."

"I'm not very interesting…" He was a humble man, but Arturia made it her mission to cajole him out of insecurity; just a tad bit.

Arturia walked around him, landing her hands on his shoulders—slightly startling him, "What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Miss Pen—"

"What would you wish to have been?" She pressured.

"It is quite ridiculous," he admitted, "A knight."

She patted his head, ruffling his hair, "And you say you are not interesting. What about family, do you have any?"

"I have an older brother…"

"Is he as handsome as you?" She asked, not actually meaning anything from it.

Diarmuid sighed, shaking his head, "I'm not handsome."

"Right, then what about your job, how did you become a mechanic?" Arturia asked before she walked towards the large window. And that was how the interview with the most handsome man in the world began.


	5. Chapter 5

Diarmuid continued to answer all the questions that Arturia shot at him. There were some simple questions like date of birth and age, then there were others that were a bit difficult; what type of woman does he like, what would he consider his perfect date… it was one odd interview.

"Are you certain that is all you need?" Diarmuid asked, head slightly leaning to the side as he pouted his lips.

She gave a nod, looking over some of the papers she had previously been organizing, "I would think that is all."

"Right," he smiled and stood from the seat, "Are we still having the shoot tomorrow?"

"Yes," she looked back up from the papers, green eyes analyzing his smile, "We would. _Are_ you free tomorrow? Or rather, would you be working at the Auto Repair tomorrow?" She thought to ask, "As I have mentioned, I would like to get a couple of shot of you there, the atmosphere really suits you."

"Thank you?" He furrowed his brows, tucking the chair inside the desk.

Her features softened from their usual stoic expression, "It was a compliment." She assured, her lips curling slightly.

"I will be working there if I would not need to for you." He responded.

"Perfect."

He turned to leave after bidding his farewell and after the first step, his stomach growled—loud and clear for anyone in the room to hear it (which only happened to be Arturia).

Arturia stood as well, "I kept you from your dinner plans, it would the least for me to invite you out for dinner." She blinked.

Diarmuid turned, a blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed laugh escaping his lips as he watched her settling her blazer, "I very much apologize for that." He stammered.

The female shrugged, her blazer slipping off one of her shoulders, "What would you like to eat?" she opened a cupboard and pulled out her wallet, the small smile on her face still.

"I could not possibly—"

"My sister owns a restaurant; she is head chef; I am certain she would love to have you dine at her place." Arturia interrupted, "Plus, I was hungry myself, and it is always nice to have company while having dinner; it makes one's food much more pleasing."

He rubbed the back of his neck, indecisiveness taking the better of him.

"I insist." She stepped towards him, now standing only a couple of feet away, "I assure you that you will not regret it."

Diarmuid could only describe her to be confident, graceful and swift. She was the very definition of Prowess; her sleek stride, gallant in her way, eyes locked ahead of her as if aiming for the future and ready to battle anything that stood in her way of success or integrity.

He followed her out of the office admiring her dignity. They bid Jeanne a farewell as she packed up her things and she returned the gesture.

The elevator rang as they reached the bottom floor of the Pendragon Agency and they crossed the lobby, not failing to catch the attention of many onlookers, catching a glimpse of their CEO and her new model as they made their way out of the building.

"The Round Table?" His eyes grew as they arrived before the restaurant, "Your sister owns the Round Table?"

Arturia gave a curt nod, "In fact, I named it." She smirked.

He quickly opened the door for her, allowing her in before following her again. They were seated in no time, a waitress dressed in a black dress and white cravat eyed the man a couple of times before leaving after having taken down their orders.

Diarmuid was in awe as he looked around, he could barely believe his eyes that he was sitting in such a fancy restaurant. There were chandeliers above them, hanging as they lit the hall. The china plates before them catching his eyes and the smell of food cueing his stomach to growl again. He sighed, smiling at the thought of the food.

There was lively chatter that grew with every second and before he could even look in the direction of the sound, he heard another voice, much closer now.

"Sister, dear." The heavy country accent of the British female was evident in those two simple words. "I see you brought a guest."

Diarmuid looked up to see a dark-haired female. It looked as if she had just let her hair free from a bun, it was wavy and twirled. Pastel green eyes looked down at him, nearly glimmering, while hands were grasped together as if in prayer. The woman wore a white robe—a chef outfit.

"Morgana, how are you?" Arturia leaned back on her seat.

Morgana flickered her gaze towards her sister for mere seconds before turning back to her companion, "I am well." She answered quickly, "Who did you bring along today?"

Diarmuid extended his hand, "My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, a pleasure to meet such a talented chef as you, I have heard your restaurant is the best in London."

Morgana grinned, "I like this one," she took his hand while she looked back at her sister, "He's a keeper." She winked.

Arturia raised brow, "I do not plan on giving him up; he is the most handsome model I have met."

Diarmuid shifted in his seat, the eyes upon him making him slightly uncomfortable. He managed an embarrassed smile as Arturia blinked at him.

"Did you two order the Chef's Special?" Morgana spoke, eyes finally drifting from the man.

Arturia nodded, "As much as I would not like to admit it, your food is delicious."

A proud smirk lit the brunette's face, "I knew that. Well," she lifted her hands, tying her wavy hair back up, "after I serve you, I would love to come and join you, would I be welcomed?"

The blonde shrugged, her green gaze landing back on Diarmuid.

"Uh," he gulped, "of course, it would be an honour to dine with you."

Morgana grinned, "Yes," she nodded, "I definitely like this one." She clapped her hands and turned about. "I will be with you shortly."

Diarmuid watched as Morgana strode back to the kitchen—a stride like her sister's, but Arturia's was much more… royal-like. It was odd, Morgana looked nothing like Arturia, save for the eyes—but they were also a different shade. Morgana stood much taller than the five-foot female, dark long wavy hair to her waist, skin as pale a china and what struck him the most about her was the different accent.

"I," Arturia snapped him out of his thoughts, "apologize for my sister, she can get a bit carried away at times." The woman sipped from the water glass on the table.

Diarmuid shook his head, "She was actually rather delightful."

She laughed, "In front of others. Behind closed doors she's a bit of a…handful."

They spoke a bit more about Morgana and how she came to be a chef. Diarmuid learned that Morgana was her half-sister and older. He also learnt that Arturia's father was wealthy and used to be a politician before his death. It was odd to see a different side of his boss, but it was calming.

Arturia crossed her legs, hands on her lap, "What does your brother do for a living?" She asked, her green eyes blinking.

"He…" Diarmuid sighed, "is a professional trouble maker."

Arturia lifted her brows, leaning towards him a bit, "There is such a thing?"

Chuckling, he shook his head, "No, he is actually a personal trainer but he likes to get into trouble a lot. While I have to be the one to get him out of it."

"Oh," she giggled, "are you the eldest?"

"No," he again shook his head, "sadly I am not. If I were, I would not be in this mess."

"Mess?" Arturia was intrigued, blinking at him in patience.

Diarmuid ran a hand through his hair, "Well," he began, "I do not mean to offend you but the real reason that I accepted your scouting offer is because my brother had a debt that he hoped I would help him on… I would like to believe that you were somewhat like a knight is shinning armour."

She blushed. Her cheeks blooming as if they were roses, eyes almost sparkling and her heart pounding, "Uh...uhm, I…uh…"

"You really helped me out a lot." He mumbled as he looked down at the table, "Wow, this food is taking a while, don't you think so?" When he lifted his head again, she could also see a blush also dusting his cheeks.

"There she is," Arturia cleared her throat once she saw her sister come through the swinging door with the food in her hands, stably balanced.

Morgana set the food before them, opening the bottle of wine and pouring them all a glass, "What did I miss?" She smiled at both, seeing the blush on their faces as it slowly faded.

"We were speaking of his older brother." Arturia said, her eyes set on the food before her.

Morgana's eyes lit up, "You have an older brother? Is he anything like you?"

"Quite the contrary." Diarmuid replied, picking up his fork.

"I would love to meet him." The brunette grinned, settling in her seat as they all began eating.

Arturia scoffed, "What about Merlin?"

She shrugged, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Plus," her accent thick as she cut into her steak, "I only want to meet him."

Arturia rolled her eyes while she drank a bit of her wine, Diarmuid keeping an eye on his boss.

"Do you live with your brother?" Morgana did seem to have an interest in the man, quite a bit.

"No, though he is to return soon."

* * *

Diarmuid rolled out of his bed, his green pyjama pants hung to his waist. He rubbed his back, yawning while he stretched. He glanced at the clock, it was six a.m. and he was already up to go for a jog. Diarmuid was a productive man. He did not like sitting in his house doing nothing all day, he loved being busy and that was one of the reasons he did not like model work.

He looked himself in the mirror, he had bags under his eyes and his black hair was all over the place; as if he had been hit by a car or something. He stepped out of his pants and walked into the shower of his small flat. He loved the cool water in the mornings as it washed over him, it woke him up and prepared him for the day ahead.

He had already slipped into something comfortable while he ate breakfast at the small kitchen, a black pair of running shorts and a simple white t-shirt. He stretched a bit more before leaving the flat, ready to begin his morning routine.

The warm morning breeze kissed his face while he jogged, he felt calm and at peace every morning.

A thought ran through his mind; the image of his boss giggling and blushing…she was different. She did not need to try to even look appealing and she already was. Sileas, on the other hand, was seductive and he could tell from the look in her eyes and they way she moved her hips with every step she took.

They were both mesmerizing the way they were, but for some reason—even if his heart jumped when Sileas winked at him—he preferred the way that his mind would melt at the sight of Arturia's smile. He preferred that much more than the wink of a slender and tall model.

* * *

He set down his bag, smiling up at the small apartment building. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and you could see it if the light of the morning sun bounced off just enough from them. He bit back a laugh, tongue gliding over a sharp canine, "Well, I hope that little jerk is happy to see me."

Picking up his bag, he rolled it towards the lobby.


	6. Chapter 6

The blue haired Irishman was thankful that his younger brother had not changed the lock and thus the sound of the lock clicking open was music to the young man's ears. He pushed the door open with his hip, rolling his bags inside the small but cozy flat. He took a deep breath, smile growing on his lips just as he pulled his phone out, playing whatever song he could find first. His phone burst into life and he whistled along to the catchy tune as he walked to his old room.

Upon opening the white door, he came across a study, his lips immediately forming a frown as he placed his hands on his hips, "This idiot begged me to come back but where's my bed?" He grumbled under his breath, groaning and huffing before entering the room and going straight to unpack. He would deal with Diarmuid later, whenever he came back, but for now he worried for what he had to do; find a new job.

* * *

Diarmuid had a bright smile on his face, his mind still on his boss. The smiles she had given him were so small, but the effect they caused on him was tremendous. He shook his head, trying to focus on his day ahead of him and not on unimportant things. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pressed the button on the elevator, dozing off until a light beep interrupted him and the doors slid open. He took a step out of the elevator and happily made his way down the hallway. He gave one last smile before opening the door. He hurried to the bathroom to clean the sweat off his face but the soft murmuring of music caught him off-guard.

 _Come to think… the door was unlocked,_ he stopped in his tracks, stepping closer to the bathroom to grab something of substance that he could use as a makeshift weapon. He tensed, brows furrowing and heart beating at a thousand miles an hour. He finally took hold of what originally felt like a hairbrush but to his surprise it was a tube of toothpaste. Diarmuid did not let his disappointment slip for fear he would be jumped and thus he settled for what he had.

Bursting through the door of his study, he heard the rough yelp of someone as he blindly threw the toothpaste at the blurry figure.

"What the actual _fuck_?" Cú yelled as he stood from the floor, "What the hell was that for?"

Diarmuid was holding his hand to his chest as he took deep and calming breaths. He took his time in slowing his heart beat and letting himself rest as he took a seat at his desk. He was not as surprised to see his brother as he should have been; but with the severe heart attack that was induced for fear that there was someone in the house had nearly taken the young man to the hospital.

"What was that?" Cú groaned as he rubbed his head, looking around for the object that had hit his on the face. His eye caught the object that obviously did not belong in a study and he reached for it, body stretching over a pile of clothes, "You hit me with _toothpaste_?" He warned.

Diarmuid frowned, "It was the closest thing to me." He lifted his shoulders in a short shrug. Once he had calmed down, the surge of anger hit him like a bus, "When did you arrive?"

Cú smiled innocently, "This morning," He then grinned, showing full set of teeth, "I wanted to surprise you, thought you were off at work."

"Why did you not tell me sooner? I would have been prepared!"

The oldest of the two brothers huffed, frown forming on his lips, "Noticed you kicked me out, what happened to my bed? My precious, sweet, soft bed?"

Diarmuid blinked. "Storage." He deadpanned and continued to turn on his heel, "Well, I should be off to work. Keys for the storage room are on the key hanger thing, address on the third page of the green book in the first drawer of the desk."

"Woah," Cú marvelled, "You are quite organized and have a spectacular memory, little bro. Wish I could be like that."

"Do not praise me. And you could be like that, if you were not so reckless." The younger brother took his leave, walking towards the washroom and ignoring the protests of his brother.

Splashing water on his face was relieving and refreshing. After drying his face with a small white towel, he walked into his room, finally changing into the blue auto repair uniform. He tied the jacket around his waist, running a hand through his hair and then stopping at the kitchen to pick up his water bottle, "Remember not to make a mess!" Diarmuid called out as he opened the door.

"Nice to see you again, too!" Cú called back, sounding irritated.

Without a second thought, the raven-haired man exited the house, shutting the door behind himself.

The sun was already shining brightly over the late morning. Threatening to burn hotter with every minute. The man turned the corner and reached his destination, earning many hellos from his fellow co-workers. He strolled in, whistling to a tune that was stuck in his head, waving at his boss before taking a step into the office.

"You seem jolly today," Fergus smirked, "What has you so happy?"

Diarmuid shrugged, "Nothing in particular."

"They treating you well there, Lad?" The heavy Irish accent of his big boss was also jolly.

He nodded in response, "Yes, they do. I am actually enjoying it quite a bit."

"Lovely to hear," The buff man grinned, "Now, I saw that magazine with that little lady of yours." He winked, "Very fine lass you've got there."

Diarmuid's cheeks were set ablaze and roared into a deep and dark blush. He knew the older man was speaking of Sileas but for some reason the image of the blonde popped into his mind and he had to stop himself for squeaking.

"Got yer little heart there, no?"

Diarmuid chuckled nervously, shaking his head, "No, she is just a friend."

"A friend? Oh, I doubt it. A fine lass like that and a good boy like you could never be 'just friends'."

"Well," Diarmuid rubbed the back of his neck, "I guess you would be wrong there."

Fergus laughed, taking strong gaps of air when his breath left him, "I always know when you have feelings for something; whether it be a car or a lass."

The young man shook his head and walked off to his station, his mind sinking into the work he had to do and the passion he had built for his job.

The clearing of a throat caught his attention as he was working underneath a car. He rolled out from the bottom, eyes squinting at the sudden attack of light. He sat up, rubbing his eyes before looking back up at the person. Black heels were the first thing he saw, eyes drifting up pale legs to a black pencil skirt, then a blazer and finally the face of the person.

His eyes settled, past the bright rays of the sun that were filtered through a window and on green eyes. Golden hair let down for the first time.

He rubbed his neck, standing up and dusting himself off.

"Greetings," Saber had an amused look on her face, almost comedic in a way, "How do you fare today?"

He blinked, gulping while he analyzed her facial expression, "Hi," he waved, "How are you?"

The corners of her lips twisted into a soft smile, "It would only be fair if you answer me first, since I was the first to ask."

"Oh!" His eyes grew wide in embarrassment and his cheeks lit up again, dressing themselves as stop lights again, "I'm sorry."

Her smile grew a single milimeter, "No need to fret."

"I'm doing well." He answered the way one would to a military commander.

"You seem a _little_ tired to me."

Diarmuid's brows knitted, "Why would you say that?"

Saber brought a hand to her mouth, covering her smile behind her thin hand,"It seems you have dark circles."

He looked taken a back and heavily confused, "Dark circles?"

She pulled out a pocket mirror from the inside of her blazer (She had this for her model, take note). Clicking it open, she flipped it and then faced it towards the tall man.

He was shocked, jaw had dropped and eyes stuck in terror. After he had rubbed his eyes to adjust to the light, he had stained them with mud; he looked like a racoon, "I am so sorry." He followed to apologize profusely.

She laughed a little, hiding her amusement, "No, do not apologize. In fact, I fancy the look."

In any other situation, he would have pouted for the fact that someone was teasing him but the woman before him was appealing, just at her simplicity, "Thank you."

"Now," she handed him her handkerchief, "I brought my photographer with me and I do hope you are prepared."

He had felt bad for her soft white cloth but welcomed her gesture nonetheless and wiped his face with it. After having cleaned off the mud, she suggested he wash his face for the shoot and probably place on some gloves. Of course, she had spoken with Fergus prior to and had even paid him for use of his Auto Repair shop as a photoset. She was thrilled with the amount of natural light that entered the building too.

"What do I need to do?" Diarmuid asked, anxiety taking the better of his judgement.

Saber gave him a mock expression of uncertainty and then shook her head, "Naturally what you would."

"Oh," he gave a shaky breath and then tried not to pay heed to the camera and the equipment as he worked on a car—a nice car courtesy of Arturia's many connections. The good thing was that Diarmuid did not have to pretend to fix the car as it truly did have some engine problems. He did as was usual for any routine of auto repair.

The photos were coming out great, as Arturia had a look of pure satisfaction on her face. He found it rather odd to be under surveillance as he worked but he managed the best he could.

It was around five in the afternoon when they called it a day. Saber had walked up to the young man and given his a very ecstatic 'congratulations' before shaking his hand.

"You were a natural today and I can assure you that the Einzberns will be completely elated with this material. Thank you for your hard work today, you were amazing." The smile was brought to her lips again, and she looked very beautiful with it, he would admit.

"Ah, well, it's all thanks to you." He gave her a soft smile as well, bashful for sure.

Arturia landed a hand on his shoulder, "Oh, how I wish that much was true." She reached up and wiped his cheek with her thumb, "It looks very adorable when you have something smeared on your face. You're much too innocent." She slid her hand off his neck and then gave him a prompt nod.

His heart might have skipped a beat, just maybe.

"Well then, until this weekend. Remember to keep an eye out for your magazine."

Bashful, his cheeks flooded pink and he cleared his throat, diverting his gaze from her intense green gaze. His heart might have skipped a beat, but he couldn't tell if it was because of her or because of the fear that he would be in a magazine; it had not really hit him until that second—the fear filled himimmensely.


	7. Chapter 7

Cú held the shopping cart, pushing it lightly as he strolled through the grocery store. Diarmuid had left him that very morning, saying that he was in charge of going grocery shopping and after finding nothing in the cabinets, fridge and even his brother's room (Take not that he always had a stash of food somewhere), he thought it best not to starve and get his butt in the car. He had picked up some frozen foods and meat and was heading out towards the produce isle to pick up a few fruits and vegetables.

His brown boots dragged on the tile floor as he walked past the many isles, mind set on the lasagna he was going to make when he got home and his stomach ready to start a riot. He heard his phone ring, just a notification as the screen lit up. He reached for it, arm stretching over the shopping cart to reach just behind the eggs. He pulled the phone back to him and turned it on again, a short message popped on screen; a text from his brother.

 _Don't forget the milk_

He scoffed, "I'm not stupid." He then took a mental note to return for the milk after he got what he wanted. His cart turned sharply as he made it to the produce, his red eyes catching some peaches. The price made him smile slightly before he caught eye of something else—or rather _someone_ else.

A lady, dressed rather formally for the supermarket, was examining a peach. Her loose soft pink flowery blouse matched her cheeks and the tight black pencil skirt to her knees made the man smirk. Her hair was bright blonde and was neatly placed in a braid, purse around her arm, shiny black heels accentuating her calves.

Cú patted his hair and took a deep breath _, time to flirt_. He took a step towards her, discarding his cart near the grapes. Just as he reached the peaches, he opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted by the loud ringing of a phone.

The woman was startled at first, dropping the peach she was holding back into the pile. She opened her purse and began quickly searching, all the while Cú watched her frantic actions.

"I deeply apologize for the noise," She cringed as she pulled her phone out of her red purse. She looked up at Cú through her bangs.

Cú gulped and slowly felt his cheeks heat up. He immediately looked away, "Yeah, sure, no problem." He rushed. _I am_ not _blushing, what the fuck?_

She was fumbling with the phone in her hands and finally shut it up when she answered. "Allô?"

 _Wow, her voice… The Peaches! Cú! The Peaches!_

"Yes, I will head over immediately…No, do not worry, Artie. I'm not hungry anyways…Okay, I will be there in fifteen minutes. Yes. Yes. Mhm. Okay, see you soon then." She spoke quickly and right after hanging up she threw her phone back into the purse and tapped the man's shoulder.

Cú turned towards her, his head slightly spinning, he coughed, "Yeah?"

"Take these, I just picked them, but I got to run; they are completely perfect, you don't have to worry about it." Her eyes were wide and lovely, like glittering lilac painted clouds of the sunset sky.

He blinked, taking in her soft French accent, her pale lips and simply all of her. "Ughm, thanks." _Play it cool, idiot. Ask her for her number._ "We-"

"Goodbye," she smiled before running out of the store, leaving him just staring at where she had been.

"Peaches…" Cú mumbled under his breath as he lifted the small bag of peaches she had shoved in his arms, "I'll be sure to meet you again, little miss peaches."

Cú was sprawled on the couch, hand faintly picking at the bowl of popcorn that was balanced on his stomach. The television was blasting a comedy movie he found as he had been flicking through channels. There was a lingering thought in the back of his mind as if he had forgotten to do something. "Lasagna; check. Bathroom; check. Bedroom; check… Peaches," he smiled, "Check and check." Then he frowned, "Number; not check. Other than that I'm not really missing anything…"

The door opened and in strolled a messy and tired Diarmuid. Feet dragging as he rubbed his eyes. He made his way to the kitchen and riffled through it for a while before he slowly opened the fridge.

In that exact moment, it dawned upon Cú what it was that he had forgotten. " _Shit_."

"Uhm, Cú," his brother spoke with concern, "where's the milk?"

Cú was silent, slowly sitting up from the couch and letting the plastic bowl of popcorn fall straight to the floor. He gulped, standing up and sneakily escaping to his room.

"You forgot the milk?" Diarmuid turned around to face his brother who was about halfway to his bedroom door.

Cú grinned innocently enough. "I brought peaches?"

Diarmuid grabbed a peach, frowning, "Are we going to use water for cereal now? Or are you making peach juice?"

The blue-haired man shrugged.

The younger man threw the peach back into the fruit bowl before sprinting towards his brother. Cú tried to make it into the bedroom as fast he could but Diarmuid caught him just at the doorway, taking him by the arm, "Not so fast. Go get the milk, now."

"But… you're not even going to let me explain why I forgot?" Cú struggled to take his arm back.

"No. I told you not to forget."

Cú huffed, "Okay but get this. There was this girl."

"It's _always_ a girl with you."

" **Uh** , this time it's different."

" _Sure_."

Cú glared at his brother but then looked off into the distance. "I saw the universe in her eyes. She was this perfect woman. Not only was she sizzling—"

Diarmuid cringed, "Sizzling? _Really_?"

Another frown from the older man. "She was hot, okay? There…" he finally drifted back to his daydream, "And her voice was like a French songbird's; it was, ah, 'ow do you say, uh, _exquisite_." He mimicked a French accent for the last part of his sentence.

"French songbird? Now I'm concerned. Are you doing drugs? Is that why I bailed you out? _Oh_ _no_!" Diarmuid gasped.

" _Diarmuid_! I'm serious here; this girl was **divine**."

Diarmuid blinked. "Right. Now tell me something new." He let go of his brother and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm serious!" Cú pouted.

"And I'm the Queen of England."

Cú groaned, stomping his foot the way a rebellious child would if he didn't get his way. "I'll prove to you that I am being serious about her!"

"So, did you get her number?"

"Uh… ah…about _that_ …"

"What's her name?"

"She…"

Diarmuid sighed. Surely disappointed he groaned, " _Right_. Thought as much. She's only a fling, isn't she?"

"Her name is Peaches." Cú proclaimed, rather proud of himself.

Diarmuid stifled a laugh, "Peaches? Okay _sure_ , who names their child Peaches?"

The red-eyed male rubbed the back of his head, "Well, her name isn't Peaches, but I call her Peaches."

"Then maybe, if you get the milk, you'll find Peaches again."

Cú's eyes lit up, he gasped, "Wait a second! You're right!" Then he ran into his room and shimmied into a jacket before racing out the door.

"Don't forget the milk!" Diarmuid managed to call before his older brother disappeared into the hallway.

* * *

The following morning, Diarmuid awoke to the annoying ringing of his alarm clock. He groaned as he shuffled in his bed, reaching over for the classic black clock that was currently dancing on his night table. His hand knocked it down to the floor, accidentally, shutting it up but with an unwanted crush.

He shot up from his bed, looking down at the now broken clock. A frown formed on his lips and he rubbed his face, trying to wake himself up before he picked it up. After examining the alarm clock, he saw that it was alright and only a bell had fallen off; but it was nothing he couldn't fix.

Delicately placing it back on his night table, he pushed himself off the bed and dragged himself towards the bathroom. He was feeling lazy but he had promised Arturia that he would go for a shoot early that morning which meant he had to be up at five in the morning.

He went through his daily routine and prepared himself. He had not been up that early in such a long time that he was feeling exhausted and drained. He had been working diligently at the auto shop for three days straight with no rest in between and as always, a nice warm shower answered his prayers. Though, a cold shower is what he got, reminding him that the hot water was not going to be working for three days due to a malfunction in the heater of the apartment building.

Diarmuid's day was already starting out cranky. He was frowning and groggy as he searched his fridge for the milk, luckily his brother had not forgotten it a second time around; something he was grateful for. He poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate next to the sink, hurriedly so that he wouldn't be late.

After he had finished, he washed his plate and spoon and left his flat, running to the bus stop, unsure as to when the bus was scheduled to pass. The morning was breezy and unusual for late summer, but it was in a way refreshing for him; he was not a fan of blazing hot weather.

He made it to the building by seven and the day was already starting to warm up. The sun shined brightly through the skyscrapers, filling the streets along with the many people that ran to their destinations, causing a huge clutter in the streets. He once again took a deep breath, stepping into the building and shielding himself from the crowded sidewalks.

It always seemed, to Diarmuid, that cities were much to anxious; people always needed to be somewhere and they would stop at no lengths to get there. He stepped into the elevator without any problem and even made it to the floor she was located in. Yet of course, if Diarmuid's day started bad, he knew much too well that it would end on the same note.

 _He tripped_.

Embarrassingly so.

Just as he had stepped out of the elevator, he tripped, falling face first and barely having time to use his elbows as support. He crashed against the floor. _Hard_. Precisely the elevator's doors closed and he was left alone to wallow in embarrassment. His arms were aching and he knew he had sprained something—his wrist to be exact.

Diarmuid rolled over on his back and sat up the best her could. He held his wrist in place, taking deep breaths so as to let the pain subside. He was not feeling well from the fall; tiled floor hurt. He was aching, and most likely bruised.

The doors behind him slid open and he quickly turned back to see who had the grace of walking in on him in his lowest. A pair of heels clacked on the floor of which belonged to his manager. His cheeks lit up in bashfulness, holding his hand tightly again.

"Diarmuid?" Her voice came with the sudden halt of her steps, "What happened?"

"I…uh… I tripped, that's all."

She rushed to him. "Are you alright? Here, let me help you up." She then extended her hand towards him, crouching down a little bit.

Diarmuid shook his head, "I think I can manage." He denied her out stretched hand, trying to hold whatever pride he had left. He let go of his aching hand and tried pushing himself off the floor, he was able to stand—with a lot of trouble, but stand nonetheless.

Arturia looked at her watch, her brows knitting. "Why are you here so early?"

He tilted his head, "What do you mean? I thought the shoot was at seven thirty."

She blinked, "Did you not get my message? The times changed because of an issue with the studio, I'm sure I—is your hand alright? Did you injure yourself?" She finally noticed that he held his wrist tightly and had a slight look of discomfort.

Diarmuid nodded, "Mhm, completely fine."

The blonde frowned, then she reached for his hand, taking it in to her own and pulling him towards her; earning a pained groan from the man. " _Completely fine_?" She glared, "Your health comes before work, there is no way I am letting you be in a studio while you are in pain; that is out of the question. We ought to get you to the hospital."

"No, no, _no_. That is really _not_ necessary. I am fine, just a little pain, I landed on it wrong, that's all."

Arturia blinked. "I will not allow you to work until a doctor confirms that you are fine. _Diarmuid_ ,"—why did his name sound so good when she said it?—"please cooperate with me."

 _Wow_ , he thought, _her eye lashes are so pretty_. They were short and light brown, against her soft skin they complemented her a lot. Her hands were rough, yet soft at the same time, fingertips warm and causing him goosebumps. "This is _not_ the time." He stopped himself before he could go any further with his daydream.

"Pardon me?" She brought a hand to her chest, "I think it very well to be the time to listen to me."

His eyes widen, dawning upon him the realization that he had said that out loud. "Oh, no! I was just thinking to myself about the pain."

"Oh, well either way, we are heading to the hospital. Wait here while I speak to Jeanne." His manager disappeared behind the sliding doors for a few minutes and returned, leading him out of the building and into a cab, knowing that driving him in a motorcycle would only cause him more problems.


	8. Chapter 8

"A sprain?" She looked up at the doctor, frown on her lips.

"Well," the doctor looked down at the clipboard, "It's a little more complicated than that."

"How complicated?" Arturia stood by the doorway of the room she had already ordered for him to rest in. If there was something Arturia ever did wrong, it was exaggerating medical situations.

"He has an inflamed synovium and one of his extensor tendons has somewhat of a tear; nothing too serious, albeit."

She gaped at him, "That sounds very serious to me."

"I can assure you, miss Pendragon. The patient is only in need of rest. He should not be exceeding himself in any way. As long as he rests and does not use his hand for three weeks, he will be fully healed."

She looked back at Diarmuid who was sitting on the bed clearly uncomfortable. She gave the doctor a firm nod before she went to see her model. "How are you feeling?" She asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

He blinked up at her. "I think… I think it's best we return for the photoshoot."

Arturia frowned, "No. I will not allow that, _ever_. I would think that it is best for you to stay…at least for the day."

"The doctor said it was a sprain, it should not really affect me."

"He also said that if you do not properly tend to your injury it could turn into something rather serious," she said.

Diarmuid bit his lower lip, "I do not think it will get to that stage."

"Are you planning to attend work tomorrow?" She raised an eyebrow, pulling her phone from her blazer's pocket.

There was a silence that filled the patient's room. The morning sunlight poured into the room, covering the two adults in the sweet warm tones. The look in the woman's eyes was something he had not seen from her. She was expectant; as if on the edge of her seat.

"Of course, I have a duty," he nodded.

She pursed her lips into a straight line. "You must always put your health before work, Diarmuid. It is vital that you are healthy. In fact, I am going to call the shop, tell your boss about the issue." She unlocked her phone and began to dial a number. "I am certain he will allow a three-week leave."

"A leave?" Diarmuid gasped, "Oh, that _cannot_ happen. Look, I understand that I should keep myself healthy, but you must surely understand that I cannot stay at home doing nothing for three entire weeks."

"Nothing?" Arturia tilted her head, green eyes wide as she blinked, "Who said you would be doing nothing?"

"I—"

"I rather think that this is a very important time to spend with friends and family."

Diarmuid had to stop the laugh that threatened to erupt from his mouth, like a volcano. "Miss Pendragon, I am not going to die. Plus, I don't have many friends."

"And family?"

"Only my brother… who is already at home and I really would _not_ want to spend three weeks with him."

"Oh," she frowned, brows furrowing and lip gnawed as she was deep in thought, "then you can spend time with me. Would that be alright with you?"

He felt his cheeks burn and his heart skip half a beat. She looked cute; gnawing her lip like that, eyes downcast, sun warming her up. _Wow! That was a dangerous thought!_

Her eyebrow rose, and she looked at him expectantly again, phone still held in her hands but she had forgotten to call the auto repair shop.

He cleared his throat, trying to get the heart beat out of it. "I would not want to be a burden to you."

"Oh, _please_. I do not think that you would be any problem. In fact, I insist. You did fall in my company building after all."

He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted again.

"Actually," he could have sworn that her cheeks had a _very_ subtle blush dusted on them; but it could have easily been the sun, "would you like to stay with me? Your brother would not bother you and, naturally, I should be the one to care for you, after all."

He coughed, repeatedly as he tried to catch his breath.

"Are you alright?" She rushed to his side, patting his back firmly. "I did not mean to surprise you."

" _No_ , no, it's alright." He coughed a few more times as his lungs settled. "I…"

Arturia nodded, "It will just be until you are properly healed. I am not asking you to move in permanently, I can assure you."

He rubbed his neck, cheeks flushing and sight a little dizzy. He had gotten many comments like such before but for some reason, she was making him flustered and embarrassed. Why did she act so nonchalant when he was a mess?

She was calm, patiently awaiting his answer. To him, albeit, it seemed that she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"If it would make you feel less worried."

She took a breath of relief and sighed, "I am glad." She finally unlocked her phone again. "I will contact your boss right now and make arrangements with him." Excusing herself before stepping out, she managed to say one last thing. "I will pick you up at seven since I should really try to find someone to fill in for today. Rest for the day, _please_."

Nodding and waving her goodbye, he watched as she left, closing the door behind herself.

Jeanne stood from her desk just as the CEO walked in through the sliding doors. "How is he?" She rounded her desk to meet Arturia, heels clacking against the floor with every step. She had a folder in her hands, prepared to hand it over to her.

Arturia sighed, "What have the Einzberns said?"

Jeanne frowned, "They are upset but I have handled the situation. I sent Gawain in Diarmuid's stead and although he was not what they were expecting, they were pleased."

"Thank you, Jeanne, you are truly a life saver."

Jeanne handed the folder over. She spoke, "These are the documents you requested. Though, I do want to ask how Diarmuid is doing."

"The doctor says he cannot exert his hand for at least three weeks and I made arrangements so that he could stay with me for that time."

"Stay with you? _Why_? Is it really necessary?"

"I spoke with mister Fergus and explained the situation as well as asked him that he be exempted from work while he was recovering. Diarmuid also expressed he did not want to stay at home for three weeks." She opened the folder and continued towards her office. Looking at Jeanne again, she gave a soft and delicate smile, "Thus, I insisted he stay with me, since it is technically my fault."

"But he fell…" Jeanne frowned as they entered the office and Arturia took a seat at her desk.

"In _my_ building." Arturia deadpanned.

"And he agreed to stay with you?" Jeanne asked, hands clasped in front of herself.

The CEO shrugged, "I insisted."

Jeanne sighed, "You _are_ aware of what inviting a man into your house entitles."

She raised an eyebrow, "Taking care of him? As I said, I made arrangements."

The secretary rubbed her temples, "As the image of Pendragon Corporation and Agency, it is quite unseemly that one of your employees stay with you in your home. It could harm both your reputations and since Diarmuid is a new model, it could even kill his blossoming career," she spoke, "Let me not sound disrespectful to you in any way."

Arturia nodded. "I have considered what you fret over but I calculated that this should be no issue, Jeanne. Now," she sat up straight, unbuttoning her blazer, "I must make a few calls. If you would please."

"Sir, please!"

Cú stormed towards the elevator, not ever caring to listen to the attendant. He was furious and surprised at the same time. Never had he expected a call. Even less to the owner of a famous company (which he had to look up because he was unfamiliar where it stood in the city). He had quickly managed to change into something presentable and taken the first taxi he could find.

Finally hopping onto the elevator, he pressed the last button and watched as the lady that had tried to stop him got stuck on the other side of the doors. The elevator ascended and he impatiently waited until it was his turn, tapping his foot and glaring at the vibrant red numbers that glowed above the buttons. It seemed like a long time coming, but he finally arrived at his destination.

He made it to the sliding doors and realized that the secretary was not there at the moment and thus he entered the office. Bursting through, he watched a short blonde seated at the desk in front of the huge windows look up from her paperwork.

The woman stood, indifference on her features as if a stranger had all but waltz into her office. "I assume you are Cú Chulainn?"

"Your security system is shit."

"I informed them you were coming with my permission and let you get this far." She closed the folder and strode towards the man, who now stood in the middle of the room. "It is impolite to walk into someone's office unannounced."

"Does it look like I fucking care?"

She blinked, "You are nothing like your brother."

"No shit."

"My name is Arturia Pendragon. I am Diarmuid's manager and the director of this agency, pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand towards the man.

He looked down at her hand as if it were coated in poison. He crossed his arms over his chest, "So this is what my brother got involved in. He was better off with the mafia."

Arturia retracted her hand, lips still a straight line.

"Well," he growled, "where's my brother? There's no way in hell he's going to stay with someone like you."

She blinked, "With all due respect, mister Cú Chulainn, but frankly, it is not your decision to make. Diarmuid agreed to stay with me and I will be picking him up today."

"Yeah, not happening. Why the hell did he even come here in the first place?"

"It was because of you."

"He's not staying, okay? Whatever we need to pay you back, I will but my brother is not going to be involved."

She shrugged, "Diarmuid signed a contract in which is stated that only he can decide if he wants to leave. Although you are the older brother, Diarmuid is already of age and can make decisions by himself."

"You have got to be shitting me."

"I am afraid I am being very serious."

Cú blinked, "Where is he?"

"At the hospital," she said, "I have made sure he is safe and taken care of, you need not worry."

" _Yeah_ , well I can never trust the modelling agency. I'll get him home. Now."

Arturia huffed, "Mister Cú Chulainn, I am not certain of what type of vendetta you have against my company or modelling in general but as I had previously stated, Diarmuid is ultimately the one to choose what he wants, let him decide."

"He makes ridiculous decisions."

"As if you were not the one that had bet ten thousand dollars on the appetite of a gluttonous gerbil."

Cú glared at her, "You wanna know something, _Arturia_ ," he spat, "you remind me of that gerbil. You take what you don't need and destroy what you can't have. I don't want my brother to be involved in this _toxic_ industry; I want to keep him safe from people like you."

She raised an eyebrow. "I also want to make sure Diarmuid is happy with what he does and I have seen he admires this job and at least enjoys working with me."

" _Sure_."

"Well, I guess we will have to see which one of us is right."


	9. Chapter 9

Cú stormed out, slamming the door behind him and leaving Arturia in disappointment. She walked back to her desk and sat down on the seat, frowning and glancing once again at her paperwork. She lifted her pen, preparing herself to sign whatever she needed to.

She, however, jumped just as someone burst into her office once again, dropping her pen in the process. She caught her breath before she was able to gasp or complain and looked up from her work.

"Oh, thank goodness you're alright! I was so worried when I heard someone came into the office." Jeanne rushed to Arturia's side, making sure that the woman was, indeed, completely fine. "What happened?"

"Diarmuid's brother stopped by, we introduced one another and it was a pleasant experience, to say the least."

" _Pleasant_?" Jeanne questioned, "I heard he rampaged through the building, causing havoc wherever he stepped."

Arturia raised an eyebrow, sighing, "Did Gawain tell you that?"

Jeanne nodded.

The CEO blinked, giving the other woman a pointed look. "You are spending an awful lot of time with him lately."

"Am I?" She blinked, her cheeks dusting pink ever so slightly.

Arturia nodded, "In fact, I could even assume there is something happening between the two of you. Is there anything that you are not telling me, Jeanne?"

"No, no, nothing—why would you even think—I. We, er...we're simply friends. Just friends..."

" _Friends_?"

"Yes..." Jeanne nibbled her bottom lip, "nothing has happened between us, I can, uh, assure you of that."

"You are a terrible liar, Jeanne, you do know that, _yes_?" Arturia shook her head slightly, "He kissed you, did he not?"

Jeanne turned beet red and she had the urge to cough, "I, erm, ah...what?"

"You need to confess that," she advised. Arturia proceeded to stand from the desk, pushing herself off the comfy and thick chair, "How come you did not tell me sooner? I had hoped you would confide in me."

"It was on the cheek! He would never just kiss me out of the blue…" The Frenchwoman argued.

"Are you certain on that? It seems to me like something he would most definitely do. _When_ did this happen?"

"I…" Jeanne's eyes cast downwards, "it happened a long time ago… I didn't think I needed to mention it, you know?"

"When?"

"Er…" She blinked, looking down at her hands and playing with a gold ring that was snuggled around her index finger. "Around five months ago…"

" _Five_ —Five months ago?" Arturia was scandalized, holding a hand over her chest. "How? _What_?"

"I went with him to a photoshoot and when he was getting ready...he, well, he kissed my cheek. It happened all so fast and… he, um...yeah. But, it really shouldn't be a problem."

"He kissed you, just like that?"

"Well," she shrugged, "yes."

Arturia's face was filled with anger and disturbance. "How could he not ask for your consent? What is wrong with him? I am going to scold him." She walked towards the door, "No, better yet, I'll fire him!"

Jeanne managed to take Arturia's arm to stop her, "No, _no_. He… he asked…"

"And you said…?"

"Yes," she squeezed Arturia's arm, "anyway, he didn't force it on me. We just…As I said, it was just on the cheek."

Arturia frowned, "First it's your cheek and then what? Jeanne is this not sexual harassment in the workplace? I will not let that happen within my company."

"No, Arturia you're acting ridiculous. He _asked_ and I gave consent and it was just a kiss on the cheek, for goodness' sake! Why would you fire him over something so trivial?"

"Do you like him?"

Jeanne shut her eyes, face burning at such a question, "Uh...yes, I, um, I _do…_ "

"But," Arturia's nose wrinkled in disgust, "this is _Gawain_ we are speaking of."

"Your cousin, yes."

"He is a… man." Arturia frowned.

" _Really_? I did not know that." Jeanne was barely ever sarcastic but the dense nature of her friend and boss killed her. "Of course he is!"

"Well, _obviously_. What I mean, is, well, it _is_ Gawain."

Jeanne crossed her arms over her chest, sighing she spoke, "And you are judging him on his past."

"I know you firmly believe the whole 'every sinner has a future'," she quoted with her hands, "but this is Gawain. Gawain Lothian, he is known for being very disinterested in the things of women and such. He is only going to make light of your feelings."

"Why do you have little faith in him?"

"I know him, Jeanne. I have lived with him since my early youth, I know his personality, his flaws, and most importantly all the mistakes he has ever made in his life."

"Why do you have him as a model in your company then?"

Arturia blinked, "I cannot deny he has a very beautiful face, sadly. I would not want my own cousin to be working for someone else when he is an amazing addition to my agency."

"Ah, of course, money is always key."

"You make me sound as if I am mercenary. I am simply worried about you. Please be careful with him." She crossed her arms over the chest and sat at the edge of her desk,. "Anyhow, we were originally talking about Cú."

Jeanne tilted her head, she asked, "Oh, is that his name? Diarmuid's brother, right?"

"Yes, the Irish have some odd names, don't you agree?"

"Says 'Arturia' the cousin of 'Gawain', what names are those?"

Arturia brought a hand to her chest in defense, she gasped, "Arturia is the female version of Arthur and well, Gawain is an odd name."

"Cú made a scene in the lobby, is that much true?"

Arturia nodded, "Yes and it seems he does not like the modeling industry because he was very unmannerly with me and the situation."

"Will you still be taking Diarmuid home with you?"

"Well… I might be. I am not sure as of yet. Diarmuid is going to be the one to choose since he is ruler of his own life."

* * *

"Arturia, surely you cannot expect me to stay with you for three entire weeks." Diarmuid frowned, sitting obediently on the bed as she had instructed him to.

"I believe I can. I thought we had settled the argument this morning. You must understand that I wish to take responsibility for the problem. It is the best remedy for my guilt and worry."

"I think you heard him, Arturia." Cú was leaning against the wall and Arturia had tried her best to ignore him and his rude comments.

She shot him an even look and her authority was enough to silence him...well, for the moment.

"Arturia, I really do not want to inconvenience you or trouble you in anyway. I want you to live as you normally would, having me around will only be a nuisance to you."

"Why would you think something like that? I want to make sure you are safe and healthy and-" she glared at Cú- "I know that you would be most comfortable and safe under my care."

"I'll have you know that I can very much take care of him," Cú growled.

She faced him, cool composed, calculated, she began, "I have no doubt of that. I mean in no way to disrespect you. I am simply stating that with my nurses and caretakers, he will be always cared for."

"You can't just buy me, _Pendragon_."

She pursed her lips into a straight line. "I never planned to."

"O-kay," Diarmuid whistled, "I think we should all calm down, just a tad bit?"

Arturia promptly returned her gaze towards her model. She offered him a smile as she fixed her blazer, "What will it be, mister Diarmuid."

He coughed. Even when she was assertive it made his heart skip a beat and feel small all the same. "Well, I…"

"No, he will come home with me." Cú deadpanned.

"I apologize, Cú, I was rather certain I did not ask you, I asked Diarmuid." Arturia blinked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

Diarmuid shot his brother a look of astonishment and scolding almost as if he were saying 'what has gotten into you?'. A frown on his lips and his brows furrowed but his eyes wide.

"Yes, but he's _my_ brother and not related to you at all. Blood is thicker than water, as they say."

Arturia crossed her arms over her chest. "The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, you mean? That is the entirety of the quote which means that bonds you make in battle prove to be stronger than just mere name... which only proves my request further."

Diarmuid sighed, "Okay! Please, I was going to give my answer."

She stared at him expectantly and he could not dare to see her disappointed, "I fear that I must accept your offer, Arturia. I must say you are very convincing."

A smile stretched her lips and she took a breath, her cheeks rounding and eyes squinting. "Delightful. You wave made a well informed decision."

" _What_?" Cú gasped, "What the _fuck_ , Diarmuid? Do you even know who she is?"

Diarmuid immediately frowned, upset he couldn't admire her brightness any longer. "Miss Pendragon, would you please leave me with my brother for a short while? I want to speak to him in private.

"Why, of course." She was still smiling as she nodded her head and walked past Cú towards the door, not failing to shoot him a look of indifference.

"What is going on? Why are you acting so...nasty with her?" Diarmuid wasted no time at all to scold his older brother, standing from the hospital bed.

"What do you mean?" Cú raised an eyebrow.

Diarmuid glared, "Why do you hate her? What did she do to you?"

Cú's face twisted with anger, his vision went red and he began to shake. "This is Arturia bloody _Pendragon_ we are talking about. Do you have any idea of what she is capable of?"

"Being an exceptional boss and successful business woman? Is that so wrong?"

"Diarmuid, I am only going to tell you once," he breathed, "The modelling industry is toxic as fuck and it is no joke. Arturia Pendragon is a monster and you can fool yourself by buying into all that calculated and premeditated charm bullshit she has but she sure as hell does not have me under her spell."

Diarmuid was taken aback by such slander coming from his own brother. Never before had he heard his brother so hateful, even since before Emer. "What are you even talking about? She's genuine and does not have me wrapped around her finger, okay?"

"If only, Diarmuid." Cú turned away, "whatever, spend all you time with her, but don't you dare fall for her sick tricks. And don't come crawling back to me when she shows her true scaly, horrid, dragon self."

"I won't…" Diarmuid murmured, not content with the fight between them. "Take care of the house, make sure to take care of yourself, okay?"

Shortly after Cú had left, Arturia trickled in and she gave him a soft smile. "Are you ready to head out?"

Diarmuid took his coat from the hanger with his non-injured hand. "I would very much like to apologize for my brother's behaviour, he is acting very disgusting towards you, please excuse him. There is no good explanation or excuse, so I only ask for your mercy."

Arturia's smile grew wider, she sighed, "Worry not. I have forgiven him. How could I ever hold a grudge when is brother is ever so kind to me." She stepped towards him, landing a hand on his forearm. "Trust me, I bear no ill feeling towards him. I am certain he has his reasoning, even if I may not understand it, it is still valid."

A smile lit Diarmuid's lips and he felt his chest swell, and his cheeks dusted in a soft and almost faded shade of pink. "Thank you, you are very kind."

* * *

 _Author's Note_

Hello all! This is very important, I am in need of your help. Okay so wow you all noticed I've started this Gawain x Jeanne train and wow I've just been reading Arthurian Legend Gawain and Fate Gawain and like man I love this boi and I've also been reading up on Cu and he's like sorta snakey. Like wow, I don't like him much but I love him only in fate. I mean, he cheated on his wife repeatedly... T.T SO it brings me to this point!

 ** _Please go on my profile and vote for which pairing you like most! And if you don't have an account just tell me here!_**

Gawain x Jeanne

Cu x Jeanne

Sincerely,

 _Ms. AtomicBomb_


	10. Chapter 10

Diarmuid was instantly dumbfounded from the start of their journey to her house. She had arranged for a chauffeur to drive them in a luxurious car and once they had reached the black and golden gates that opened to a luscious garden, the poor model nearly had a heart attack. He had expected a penthouse but when they begin to drive to the outskirts of London, Diarmuid only guessed a house… He never imagined something like this.

"This is my family house, I thought it would better suit for your recovery as opposed to a stuffy building." They were both helped out of the car. "This estate offers the comfort of a house, as well as the comfort of nature and serenity. I hope it is to your liking."

Diarmuid looked up at the towering house, or villa rather, it was huge and the antique touch it held was what made him feel as if her were in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Vines climbed up the grey stone walls, thick with the summer leaves. Flowers sprinkled the bushes around the house and the stone brick floor was neat and tidy. The house was immense and fit for a king.

"It is beyond anything I would have ever imagined. Are you sure it's alright for me to stay here?" He asked, looking over at Arturia. "I would not like to inconvenience your family."

"My parents live in another estate we own that is up near Scotland, they like their privacy after they stepped down from the company. My sister is away with her husband and that leaves the house to myself." She explained as they entered the house, only to meet an enormous foyer that opened to a grand staircase.

This place was a palace, Diarmuid was sure. There was absolutely no way this was an ordinary mansion. The wallpaper was gold and red, a spectacular chandelier hung from the high ceiling as huge paintings hung on the walls, one centered above the staircase of a family, Diarmuid guessed it was Arturia and her family. Trinkets lined the tables and he could swear he had just slipped through time and landed in Queen Victoria's reign.

"Don't you get lonely in such a big house?" He wasn't sure why he had spoken out loud and he immediately regretted his words for she had fallen silent.

He watched as she made her way towards the staircase, the butler behind them following her with the bags in his hands.

"You will be staying in one of the many guestrooms. It will be on the south wing, so that it will be easier for the maids to tend to you in case of any issue." Diarmuid caught up, standing next to her now.

"Again, I think that is not necessary, but I thank you nonetheless." He bowed his head.

She stepped ahead, a soft smile on her face, "I would like to make you the most comfortable that you can be. I am sure that this house will offer you peace and tranquility. You are welcomed to roam around the estate and explore the gardens. The butler could also prepare a carriage for you if you wish to ride about the property and if in any case you would like to visit the village."

"Wow, I uh, thanks. Really, thank you…"

They stopped in front of a brown door and the butler opened the door for them.

"This is where you'll be staying," she spoke, revealing a grand bedroom that came complete with a fireplace, sitting space and king-sized bed. The white lace curtains were pushed to the side to reveal large windows that allowed lots of light in and made the room much more spacious.

He stood much too stunned to speak, only stared in awe and wonder. He had lived in a small apartment for most of his life and to be staying at such a grand estate truly left him speechless and dumbfounded.

Arturia introduced the butler. "This is Mister Adley, he will be your footman and valet. There will be the sound of a gong when each meal is prepared and there is a jacket that is suitable only for the dinner room. Mister Adley will inform you of the customs."

The man stood in a butler's suit, bushy mustache above his top lip and grey gelled back hair. He seemed aged and nearly ready to retire. Though, his stance read all but tired. He was poised, confident and ready to attend his master.

Diarmuid barely had time to register what she meant before she spoke again, "I will let you get settled in and we could meet for dinner in the dining hall, I will see you then."

"Y-yeah, of course." Diarmuid nodded, waving her goodbye as she disappeared behind the door.

"Where would you like me to put your belongings, sir?" The butler snapped Diarmuid back to reality before he got carried away analyzing the room.

The Irishman glanced over the room one last time. "Anywhere...I guess. And you can call me Diarmuid, please."

"Sir." Mister Adler gave a court nod arranging Diarmuid's belongings by the closet. "I will return when it is near dinner time. I will lead you to the dining room." And then he too left the man to himself in the huge room.

Diarmuid slowly sat down on the bed, feeling the cream white comforter under his touch, the cotton so fluffy and soft. He tapped his foot on the hardwood floor, letting the noise fill the air around him. He took in the distinct smell of lavender and then he stood from the noiseless bed. Stepping toward the fireplace where there was no trace of a fire, he noticed a decorated rope hanging from the ceiling. Obviously, he pulled it (with his good hand), it moved but nothing happened. He thought that it could have been to open the chimney or something of the sort and so he continued to look around, forgetting about it.

He walked towards one of the windows, looking past the French bars and out into the courtyard. He was now able to properly see the gardens, which were extravagant and reminded him of the Versailles Gardens, he would not be surprised if Arturia belonged to any royal family.

There was so much to see but he did not want to seem intrusive, thus, when someone entered the room, he almost jumped away from the window.

"Sir, you called?" Mister Adler stood at the door.

Diarmuid blinked. "I did?"

He nodded. "Yes, you rung the bell, as I remember."

"I did?"

The man pointed at the rope and asked, "Did you pull the rope?"

Diarmuid blushed. "Er, yes." He nodded.

"Ah," the man breathed, "I overlooked it. When you need someone to tend to you, you simply pull the rope, and someone will come rushing along. The rope is connected to a bell that rings in the servants' hall, it tells us which room to go to."

"Wow, that's pretty cool. Do all the rooms have them?"

"Yes, each single one."

Diarmuid nodded in awe, thinking of how the bell system really worked.

The butler straightened his suit jacket. "In any case, is there something that you would like. Tea, perhaps?"

"...Water, if that's alright." Diarmuid rubbed the back of his neck.

"Right away, sir." The man bowed and exited the room. Once more Diarmuid was left alone. It wasn't long before he heard the gong and his valet entered the room with a knock, helping him into nicer wear and a specific dinner jacket.

He was led down the hallway and the staircase, through a sitting room and finally, he arrived at the dining room, where Arturia was already seated. Again, the room was big, and the dining table could fit what looked like ten people or more.

"Good evening." Arturia remained seated, but she looked up at him as he was ushered to a seat.

Diarmuid smiled, "Good evening." The atmosphere was slightly awkward as he sat down across from her, his valet tucking him in.

"I understand you might feel uncomfortable and out of place, but this is an earl's estate and alas we must abide by the customs." She held no expression, as was custom of her. Her lips were placed in a straight line and even her eyes looked to be lifeless.

She was hard to figure out and he did not even think he was starting to figure her out. One minute she would give the smallest of smiles and the next she was back to being stoic and expressionless, almost as if expression made her weak or she was well above that.

"You're a lady earl?" He really should not have been surprised, the estate was a giveaway. "Is there a term for lady earls?" He blushed, thinking how ridiculous he sounded.

"Well, no there is no term for female Earls. "She shook her head ever so slightly, "They are given the title of Countess, since the title of Earl is equivalent to that of Count."

"Oh, the things you learn every day. I would have never known." He laughed, albeit a little nervously.

She sipped from her glass of red wine, "To answer your first question. I am not a Countess. My father is the Earl but as he is away, I am acting Countess until my parents return from their vacation, which will hopefully be soon."

They ate in silence afterwards, only commenting on the weather or politics every now and again, until they finished and were ushered into the drawing room.

"Sit, please," she insisted, and they sat at a couch. "Three weeks will fly by, I can assure you. In fact, you have already been working for me for more than three weeks. It does not feel like much, does it now?"

He laughed, "It certainly has gone by quickly."

"I am pleased that you have not come across heavy paparazzi at your home. Have you come across any inconvenience?" Arturia asked.

Diarmuid shook his head. "No, surprisingly. Though I can across a lot of paparazzi when I was meeting with Sileas."

"Ah," she nodded, "she seems to attract them like moth to a flame. She loves to be on the spot light."

"So I have seen."

He had not noticed before but Arturia was wearing a deep burgundy dress that hung past her knees. Her hair was up in its usual ponytail but now that they were right next to one another, he could see the faint tint of pink on her cheeks. She looked simple but pretty.

"Would you like some tea?" She asked as she stood from the couch, walking towards the rope that hung next to another chimney.

Diarmuid smiled, "Only if you would like."

"Aha," he could hear the smile through her short laugh, "then tea it shall be." She rung the bell and sat back down, white gloved hands resting on her lap.

He furrowed his brows. Opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He looked away from her, resting his eyes on a painting on the opposite wall of the room. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear a dress before…"

"I _never_ wear dresses." She grimaced, "I prefer to wear suits and every so often an office skirt. Dresses are sometimes...distracting for both myself and others. Though, as I have previously mentioned, this house holds customs that are well above me and my preferences."

"Well..." he spoke, "I think you look beautiful."

She opted to remain silent, waiting patiently for the footman. He arrived in no time, allowing her to ask for tea and he disappeared. "I hope that your brother is not too upset with the arrangement."

"I promised to call him tonight to let him know how I'm doing."

She nodded, "That is lovely." They sat in silence once more and it took a rather long time until the footman arrived with the tea. He poured each of them a cup and left once more.

The pair awkwardly sipped at their tea, exchanging a glance every now and again. She made sure that he was not exerting his hand and would offer to help him a few times, but he declined with the pride that remained in him still, after such a fall in front of her.

Arturia stood. "I suggest we head to bed. It is getting late and I will have an early morning for the ride back to London. I hope we can see each other again before I head off."

He stood as well, offering a smile. "Yes, I hope so too."

"I will be having breakfast at six in the morning if you would care to join me. Though, I suggest you remain in bed and my maids will make something for you so that you need not trouble yourself."

"Oh, please, I will join you. This house is quite big for one person." He smiled.

She blinked, giving him a nod. "Good night. If you are in need of anything, do not hesitate to ring the bell. Remember, I wish for you to have a perfect stay for your recovery."

"Thank you," he grinned, "I really can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure." She turned to leave.

"Good night!" He waved and after giving him one last glance, she headed off.


	11. Chapter 11

Being left to himself in such a large mansion was a bit… _uncomfortable_. Of course, he was not completely alone; there were maids and butlers and people about doing their jobs, but…but he did not know anyone, and no one talked to him (save for the butler who had no sense of humor). He looked around, the hallways were long and silent, natural lighting did not reach the hallway until the very end, where a large window opened to the many fields.

The bright sun was a tempting coercion and so he gave in, walking down the grand stairs; not failing to look at the huge painting. He analyzed the stoic faces of the four figures depicted. He had already established who Arturia was, a young blonde in the middle, Morgana, who was standing just behind her and her parents on either side.

The family in the portrait were strange, he would admit. They seemed genuinely happy, but they were stoic and serious. Thinking back to his family picture, they were all smiling so why was Arturia's family so…different? Obviously, families are always different…

Lunch hour had breezed by and the food prepared for him had been ever so delicious that he was sure he would not taste such a meal again; even if it were made by his mother. He decided to spend some time in the living room, where he knew he could find as many as a hundred interesting things. Sure enough, when he strolled inside, he saw knights' armour and swords, spears, antiques and maybe even relics. Sure enough, they were authentic and looked to be very, _very_ expensive.

Diarmuid did not know how much time he had spent watching, analyzing and marvelling in all the trinkets around him, but he could tell the sunlight was not as intense anymore. The decorated red carpet on the floor also seemed to be of great value, as did the embroidered window sheers and the ornamented cushions that sat perfectly on the chaise. Curiously, Diarmuid reach out to feel the smooth armour of one of the knights, as this was what fascinated him the most.

He heard the front door swing open but after checking the time, he figured it was not Arturia and so he continued playing bout with the small sword letter opener. His ears perked when he heard the powerful and confident stride of a woman; he always liked to hear heels on marble, it was pleasing for some odd reason. Then, a woman walked by the doorway of the living room.

Diarmuid couldn't catch a proper glimpse of her as she dashed past with determined steps. Though as soon as she passed the foyer, her steps stopped, and he could no longer hear the satisfactory sound of her heels, abruptly, they started again, as suddenly as the stopped. This time, however, they approached the living room and soon enough a woman stood in the entryway.

Wavy brown hair was rolling in loose ways over one of her shoulders, big cat-eye sunglasses (like those from Breakfast at Tiffany's; don't ask, Diarmuid somehow liked that movie) framing her face, cherry red lips as she held a cream purse in one hand and a fancy scarf tied around her neck. She wore an off-the-shoulder flower print shirt as a white, high-waisted pencil skirt accentuated both her hips and her thin waist.

Her unoccupied but adorned had gracefully lifted and she took off her sunglasses just as the butler strolled behind her with a couple of luggage bags.

Her eyes lit up and the edges of her lips curled. "Oh, hello," came her thick country accent, "Diarmuid, was it?"

She was well made up, and she looked so beautiful in the warm light of the sun. After becoming a model, he sure had met a handful of pretty ladies.

"Yes, uh, hi, Miss Pendragon." He waved, pulling his hand back from the breast plate of one of the hollow knights.

Morgana took a step towards him and he walked to meet her just at the edge of the carpet. She extended her hand out towards him, the way a princess would. He took her hand and assumed he was to kiss it and thus he did. This action made the woman giggle, sea green eyes flooding with mirth.

"How chivalrous of you." She tilted her shoulder, a smile still on her face, he strong cheekbones coloured soft pink. "Though," she took her hand back kindly, "you were only meant to hold it for a second or two. And I am not Miss Pendragon any more, you can call me Morgana."

"Oh," he blushed, "I…I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"No need to worry." She shrugged, stepping fully into the living room and looking around, not exactly worried that he had ruined something. "What brings you to our lovely estate? Were you waiting long?"

Diarmuid did not keep his eyes off her as she walked past him, shaking his head; unsure if Arturia would have allowed him to tell the truth. Though, there was nothing to hide, for nothing wrong was done. "No, I…Arturia insisted I stay here for a while…"

She darted her eyes towards him, an eyebrow raising inquisitively, leaving her purse on the chaise. " _Oh_? Is that _so_?"

He gulped, nodding. He felt inferior to her, becoming self aware of his actions and looks. Was what he was wearing not presentable? Did he have bags under his eyes from the lack of rest?

A devious smile warped her lips and she gave a slight laugh. "I did not know you two were so… _well_ acquainted."

Diarmuid just stared at her in silence, feeling awkward.

"What's this? What happened?" Morgana finally caught sight of his arm, not having questioned it before.

He looked down at his hand and gave a nervous laugh. "I, sorta sprained my wrist."

"Oh my! Was this Arturia's doing? I thought I told her to not treat her boys so roughly. When does she ever listen to her older sister?"

Immediately, he raised his hand, "Oh no! It wasn't her fault at all. I was the one that fell. Apparently a little too hard."

"I'm sure you did." Had she sounded a little… _cheeky_? That had to be his imagination, right? "Anyway," his thoughts fluttered away, "did you already get a tour of the house?"

"No, I…I didn't yet," he said in a low murmur, "Arturia was very busy and I would not want to intrude."

"You are much too modest. I will show you about and you will get to know the whole house just like the back of your palm! How long have you been here for?" She wrapped her arm around his and pulled him along with her.

He followed her, without much restraint. "I just got here yesterday evening…"

"I see," her eyes glinted, "it must have been a long night."

"Not exactly…"

"Well, now that you are well acquainted with our living room, we'll continue to the kitchen; my favourite place, personally." That is what they did, they crossed the foyers, arms hooked as they strode towards the kitchen. There was not a single second that he did not look around in astonishment of the high ceilings, delicate paintings and historic trinkets that lines coffee tables and stands. He had even spotted a few marble busts that amazed him. He had really wanted to touch one, to feel the smooth marble face, to see if it was smoother than a baby's cheeks.

"I spend most of my time here, trying new recipes and making my little sister the Guinea pig. It's always a pleasure to see her face light up when I make something she likes. My husband also enjoys my cooking. If you stay the night, I might have time to make you something." The countertop was a think nearly opaque glass, the kitchen splashed in a grey off-white that made it look spacious. "Of course, this is the family's kitchen, there is a kitchen in the lower floor where the servants prepare the food." She looked away, as if embarrassed.

"The kitchen is beautiful." He offered her a smile.

"Thank you, my mother and I try to keep it in shape; while my father and Arturia mess it all up," she answered. "If you are ever hungry, you could call the butler or come to the kitchen."

They walked about more, and she showed him the antique greenhouse, the gardens, the many rooms he was allowed in, the doors of those he wasn't, she even showed him the servants' hall and the attic. Walking past a hallway, she stopped.

"And down this hall is Arturia's bedroom…but I'm sure you already know." She winked and immediately he turned crimson as his cheeks lit up.

Diarmuid was flustered, taking his arm back and nearly shaking. "No, I—uhm I…She, we, err—"

Morgana batted her lashes and shook her head. "You need not explain yourself. I just hope Arturia is taking good care of you."

"No, it isn't like—"

"Dia, please." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she straightened, standing nice and tall, proud of how she had made him so flustered. "My sister only picks the best, and I can see she had great taste with you."

He gulped, coughing slightly as he wanted to cover his cheeks, certain they were tainted red with embarrassment. He wanted to run and hide from her, but he could not even bring himself to do that, thus he opted to turn away. "M-Morgana," he puffed, "I, uhm, I can assure you that…I can assure you that it wasn't anything like _that_."

"Like what?" Diarmuid jumped at the voice of Arturia, he knew, in this moment, that he wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole…but alas, that was impossible.

"Sister dear!" Morgana's smile stretched wide, and she extended her hands out to the blonde. "You're home much earlier than usual."

"I could say the same for you." Arturia's lips never once stretched, not even twitching. She was stoic, as per usual. "Were you not supposed to be home in a week or two?"

Morgana tittered, "Yes, that is true," she gave a half-hearted frown, "but, Merlin had to hurry back for one of his patients was experiencing complications and we had to cut our vacation in the continent short, much to your dismay."

Arturia blinked. "You should have called."

"I realize that now, but how would I have known that you had a lovely guest over?" There was a sly glint in Morgana's sea green eyes and she gave an innocent smile, fluttering her eyelashes. "And I must say you are very sneaky, dear sister. You knew much too well that our parents would not be home for another month and took advantage of the fact that Merlin and I were away to bring such a handsome company."

"Well, now that you have met, maybe you would be so kind as to make us something to eat."

Morgana's smile wavered a tad bit, but she brushed away her impatience. "You read my mind! I wanted to make something sublime for your sweet model. Would you like steak, Dia?" She turned to him and his cheeks immediately bloomed once again.

"Er, I…I'm okay with anything, really."

"Perfect! I'll make sure you have the best meal of your life! I promise you, you will not regret this." If Diarmuid admired something from Morgana; it was her enthusiasm, and her carefree nature. She wasn't like any other girl he had met. You see, Sileas was a flirt, sexy, sultry and a million leagues ahead of him. Arturia, on the other hand, was elegant, sophisticated and regal, something like a queen that held her head high and was ever so serious. Finally, Morgana was funny, childish, suggestive in her speech, enthusiastic and still somehow very proud and confident. She was strange in such a way that he knew she wasn't so far to reach yet still too good.

"Thank you," he returned the smile.

"Now, I'll leave you two alone, so you could… _talk_." Morgana gave one last wink before confidently and proudly making her way towards the kitchen.

Arturia cleared her throat. "I do very much apologize for her behaviour."

"There's no need, she was great company," Diarmuid assured, offering his boss a soft smile.

* * *

 _Why must I keep making Morgana so embarrassing in my fics? x.x_


	12. Chapter 12

"So." Morgana took a sip from her wine glass. "How did he just waltz in like that?"

Arturia sighed. "I've said it a couple of times already, Morgana. He opened the door and entered. It is not so hard to understand, dear sister."

"I am very shocked, I mean. He did go through all the security."

Arturia noticed that Diarmuid seemed very uncomfortable, as was expected when Morgana wanted to gossip about his brother and what he'd done. He was embarrassed and completely bashful. Arturia could tell that he was trying to hide his face and stop any sudden movements for fear they'd notice him or something.

"What about Merlin?" Arturia wanted to change the subject. "Will he be joining us anytime soon?"

Morgana offered a shrug and sipped at her wine once more. "His patient is having a dire emergency, as he put it. He said he'd be home as soon as he could be. I do hope that he'll be here for the weekend."

"What happened with his patient?"

"She was experiencing some complications. But, it should be well now. I don't think it's something to worry about, Merlin always takes care of them very well."

Arturia nodded. "I'm sure he does. I've never had a problem with him."

"Diarmuid," Morgana smiled as his head shot towards her, "I had a very important question to ask you. Well...not very important, really. I was just very curious."

He tilted his head. "Y-yes?"

"You see." She pulled out her phone from the purse she'd been carrying about. "I saw a magazine while my husband and I were at the airport, and well...It said Youth and you were dating."

" _Dating_?" He coughed. He had to control himself, beating his chest slightly to control himself. "Where did you read that?"

"In a magazine." Morgana showed a picture to both Arturia and Diarmuid before she set her phone back down. "Not a very credible magazine but they are rather influential. I thought I'd bring it up since Arturia has very strong views of her models dating."

Arturia glared at her sister. "Morgana please, my models can date whoever they want. I'd just prefer it if they didn't date people from rivalling agencies."

Diarmuid couldn't filter himself. "Why?"

She turned towards him. "You're completely allowed to date her, I do not intend to break you two up for any reason whatsoever."

"Oh no." He blushed. "No, I-we, uh, we are not dating. I don't… we...no. I just…"

"Break-ups are sometimes nasty between agencies...they tend to get...out of hand. Gawain dated a couple of women from different agencies and that never ended well, especially when he cheated on one of them After that, I'd rather save myself the headache if my models date from other agencies."

"Ah." He slowly nodded. "I see."

* * *

"Are you feeling better?" Arturia asked as they walked through the gardens of her house.

It was late in the evening and they had already shared dinner and a tea. Since it was the weekend, Arturia didn't bother going to sleep early since the agency wasn't open during the weekends. She was glad she could spend some time with Diarmuid to make sure he was comfortable, she felt a little guilty he was spending the whole day alone.

The wind blew light and since she had her hair down, it slowly danced in the breeze. It was a warm evening, which allowed them to be out in the gardens.

Diarmuid was seated on a bench in front of a fountain that was lit by many light posts that lined it. He looked over at Arturia and smiled at her. "Yes." He nodded.

"If you are ever feeling down, or in pain, please do inform me." She took a seat next to him on the stone bench.

He smiled and nodded once more. "Of course."

They sat in silence and looked at the fountain. The constant bubbling of the water and the rustling of the leaves filled the air. It was calming to be there alone, far away from any busy city, or even from any human. It was serene.

They slowly turned towards one another and Diarmuid couldn't help but notice a lock of her hair that clouded her features. A sudden urge took over him and he didn't think it through before he reached out and pushed the lock of her golden hair behind her ear. His eyes fell to her lips as they slowly parted in confusion. He leaned forward slightly.

Diarmuid felt a shock run through his body and his heart swelled in his chest. What the hell was he thinking? He pulled away and cleared his throat, trying to refresh his mind by looking at the water flow.

"My parents will return tomorrow, they said. It would be nice if they could meet you. Well." She stared at the fountain too. "They've never formally met any of my models, other than Gawain, of course. I'm certain they'd take a liking to you."

"An earl? I couldn't possibly meet an earl. What would I even say?" He felt it there, when he repeated it. Her father was an earl, Arturia was...high above him. He should never be able to even think about kissing her. What had been running through his mind? The fact that he could even push her hair back made him feel horrible. She was basically a royal, what the hell?

"Anything." She shrugged. "My father is very easy to talk to, he loves dogs and hunting, and what man doesn't like dogs?"

Her tone was light and he noticed she'd made a joke.

"Dogs are very nice," he mumbled. "I just feel very intimidated and a little scared. I didn't think that he would find me very interesting."

A smile lit her face. "Cars. You two can talk about cars. My father loves them, he even has a couple here, he could show you tomorrow. It'd be nice if he would have someone to share his hobbie with."

* * *

 _short chapter bc I wanted to get content out before finals.  
_ _honestly, i'm really sorry for being so inactive lately  
thank you for all those who've stuck around  
i really love you guys x.x :*_


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